


Not In A Million Years

by Sleepykit3



Series: Transference [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: 1990s, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Arguing, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Billy Hargrove Tries to Be a Better Person, Body Horror, Bottom Billy Hargrove, Brotherly Steve Harrington & Dustin Henderson, Competition, Demons, Dialogue Heavy, Dissociation, Drug Dealing, Drugs, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Edging, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Fights, Forced Orgasm, Hearing Voices, M/M, Masochism, Masochist Billy Hargrove, Melancholy, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Mystery, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Abuse, Porn With Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Protective Steve Harrington, Reluctant Sadist, Sadism, Sadomasochism, Sex Addiction, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smoking, The Upside Down, Top Steve Harrington, Violence, Virus, what's wrong with Billy Hargrove?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-08-03 00:57:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16316066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepykit3/pseuds/Sleepykit3
Summary: September, 1996 - the month shit hit the fan.Bleeding and in shock following a 'not date' gone awry, Steve and Billy flee quarantine - returning to Hargrove's apartment to commence freaking out. Between them, Billy's new gun and a large bottle of cheap vodka. Steve has some explaining to do but there's no way he's gonna do it sober.Now bound together by the sinister return of The Upside Down, the pair struggle to stay afloat as personal histories are pulled to the surface, exposing their ugliest traits. Hilariously outmanned and outgunned, neither have a clue what to do other than to survive by any means they can with disastrous consequences. It's left to Dustin and Max to try and keep the two above water, warding off further damage, but as their sadomasochism intensifies and the self-medicating gets out of hand, it's gonna take a miracle to prevent catastrophe.Multiple mysteries surround both men yet one takes priority above all else, threatening everyone's safety:What thehell'swrong with Billy Hargrove?Steve is gonna have to pay close attention to his rival if he wants to keep himself and the other safe but Harrington's never been very good at emotions, and a demon's coming for him too.





	1. Vodka and a Loaded Gun. Pt 1.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Onatopp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onatopp/gifts), [utterday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/utterday/gifts).



Stumbling out of the cab and clutching his bleeding side, Billy nodded to the driver before tucking the gun into his pants. He watched the car reverse through bleary eyes, skidding on the wet tarmac as it sped away leaving him standing in the freezing mist - the adrenaline burst that’d saved his life less than an hour earlier fading to exhaustion. Putting one foot in front of the other, Billy tried to walk but only managed a few paces, grunting as the bullet wound contorted and tore with each motion.

Pained, he squinted at the sky. His ears were ringing now - the damp, nighttime ambience mutating into an unwanted symphony by the migraines that’d plagued him throughout the course of his evening.

The entire taxi journey home had been essentially a screaming match between himself and the driver. Billy had done his best to calm the man down, but as he begged for Kareem to keep driving, his questioning only became more panicked. Probably not aided by the gun he’d been banging on the back of his chair, which in hindsight, was thoughtless.  
It was a manic blur. Between confirming that yes, Billy was bleeding all over the backseat and no, he would _not_ be returning to a hospital anytime soon, the pair of them had tried to make sense of what he’d seen in the quarantine, but all that had done was drive an otherwise chilled out guy into an anxiety attack behind the wheel. Selfishly, Billy wanted to convince everyone in the car that the gun was necessary, however in the close confines of that cab - presented with two men both bruised, bloody and in shock, dripping over his seats - Kareem remained sceptical. In the end, Billy was left saddened that the man who’d looked at him as an equal on the inbound journey to Hawkins General Hospital, drove away thinking he was a violent nutcase. It was an all too familiar feeling.

Billy surveyed the car park and dragging his eyes from the murky sky, he  spotted Steve crouching by the stairs, holding his head as he shivered in the cold. The man hadn’t said a single word in the car, instead he’d just stared at the bloody fountain pen clutched in his shaking hands, blue ink leaking from the splayed nib. The most Billy had been able to encourage from him was a few weak nods, and even when he threw the improvised weapon out of the car window, Steve simply turned his head and proceeded to stare out of that too.

He knew the man wasn’t okay, but Billy was starting to feel faint; his torn shirt sodden by the wound still weeping down his side. It was approaching 10pm and Hargrove still hadn’t eaten. All things considered, it was a miracle he was still standing at all.

“Hey, -” Billy began, trying to keep his tone soft as he painfully lowered himself to address Steve, “D’you wanna go inside?”.  
Harrington remained silent, looking at the floor and flopping an arm over his knee. “You don’t have to - I can call another cab if you want, I’d understand.”

“‘S’ok, sorry, I - uh, sorry.” Steve finally replied, shaking his head and wearily wiping blue ink across his face.

“Drinks?” Billy tried to which the man nodded, and without looking at back, Steve rolled forward to grip the railing, leaving dark crimson handprints on the banisters as he climbed the stairs. I guess that’s that then, Billy thought to himself as he clutched his side, hissing through the pain before stepping into Steve’s shadow. Eyes fixed on the man’s back, Billy held a hand up to shield himself from the balcony lights, Steve’s black silhouette soothing his aching retinas. “You sure you don’t wanna go home?” Billy asked again as he reached his door.

“Sure.”

Awkward in each others spaces, the pair avoided eye contact as Billy clumsily unlocked the door, holding it open for Steve who sped through with a muffled ‘thank-you’.

 _“This isn’t very you - playing the ‘gentleman’. Since when did you care what he wanted?”_   

Oh, for the love of… “Not now - I’m not in the mood.” Billy groaned under his breath, ignoring the demon watching him judgmentally from the balcony.

_“I beg to differ. You noticed the tear in his jeans, didn’t you? You know the one I’m talking about - right there by the zip. You saw that.”_

Rolling his eyes in frustration and now too embarrassed to look in Steve’s direction, Billy slammed the door on his persecutor, praying the creature would freeze to death and leave him the hell alone. Unfortunately, as with all his previous attempts to break free from them, he was followed straight to the cupboard by the refrigerator - their commentary continuing as he reached for the opened vodka and three gift sized bottles of spirits.

_“Quite the few days you’ve had here B… I mean, as weeks go, this has been something else.”_

Sinking onto the kitchen floor, Billy twisted open one of the small bottles and spat the lid across the kitchen. His invisible companion had a point, he thought, swallowing the brown liquid thirstily and gasping upon completion. Billy waited for a moment before opening the next one, resting his head on the back of the cabinet. There were no words in his vocabulary appropriate to describe the turn of events since Chris in the restroom stalls at work, and as he felt the burn of the liquor hitting the back of his throat, Billy tried to reassure himself it couldn’t possibly get any worse. Something that, the more he considered it, was destined to happen.

From the other side of the room Billy heard Steve crash onto the sofa and remembering his role as host, he gripped the counter and tried to stand. “Fucking… shit.” He choked, staggering backwards as the bullet wound tore further.

“You alright?” Steve asked from the sofa, to which Billy grunted and bent over the kitchen surface, hair rolling over his shoulders when out of nowhere… Arousal - an electric shock through his system fed by his demon running their icy hands up his thighs. Billy’s head spun as the two sensations twisted around his body, leaving him breathless and ashamed. “Vodka okay?” He managed, his head still down, “It’s cheap but I’ve got tons of the stuff.”

“Sure, whatever - thanks.”

“I’ve gotta… clean something up, you good over there for a bit?”

The man said nothing and gave him the thumbs-up.

Slowly straightening himself, Billy looked up at the high cabinet where the antiseptic was kept. This… was going to hurt. Eying the last of the gift bottles, Billy gave in, downing it quickly before standing on his toes to grab the antiseptic, antagonising the injuries across his body and fuelling his involuntary excitement - the evidence of which he was starting to feel press against his pants.

 _“Hey…”_ Billy heard his demon croon and with their hand hand stroking his now tingling stomach, he parted his lips as he felt them push their fingers like blades into the bullet wound - the sensory link between the source of suffering and his burning groin so intense, he let go of the antiseptic.

“Y’sure you’re okay?” Steve asked, concerned - attention caught by the sound of glass smashing on tiles.

“Uh-huh.” Billy replied hurriedly, remaining still as he reluctantly peeled his shirt from his side. The instant he saw the bullet wound exposed he flinched in fear but before he could react further, he felt his nonexistent shade breathe onto his lower abdomen - the ‘hand-that-wasn’t’ snaking back down to his legs until Billy was almost cupped by them.

 _“Hey… Hey now, shhh…”_ His demon crooned in what must have been an attempt to soothe him.

Stay focused… just, one thing at a time… Billy told himself, lowering his shirt and pouring Steve his double. Distraction from his shadowy other-self had become top priority but this was proving futile - the pain triggered by the simple task of delivering Harrington his glass somehow making the spectre more proactive in their twisted endeavours rather than pushing them away.

Mission accomplished, Billy returned to the relative privacy of his kitchen and removed his shirt again, halting as the cool air made contact with his torn skin. He doubled over suddenly - his frame caught by pleasure waves mimicking that of an orgasm, reducing him to a self-hating wreck. Billy stared at the open bottle of vodka on the side.

_“You can’t drink this one way, Billy. All the alcohol in the world won’t make this go away.”_

Humiliation rising, he looked behind him to see Steve tilting his glass and staring into it blankly. He didn’t want the man to see him like this, so he’d have to be quick. And silent.

Kicking away the shards of glass from the broken antiseptic bottle, Billy prepared a strong salt water solution, his eyes still fixed on Steve as he hunted for the cleanest cloth available. Billy swore under his breath, twisting the dirty, wet shirt into a ball before shoving what he could into his mouth. He faltered for a moment, glaring at the salt-water hatefully before inhaling deep and biting down hard on his makeshift gag.

Billy’s eyes flew open immediately - the salt disinfecting his deep injury leaving him rigid in agony. Breathing through his nose and looking at the ceiling, he did his best to not make a sound but there was nothing he could do to hide the tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. His Persecutor responded in an instant, standing to face Billy and firming their hold on his erection.

 _“Shhh, B, listen to me -”_ The demon tried, tilting their captives face to them as they began to massage him through his trousers, _“Focus here - you need to focus here.”_ Billy shook his head, wishing he could refuse the toxic gift his split was trying to give him. _“I’m trying to help.”_

Still determined to resist the pull of that fucked up euphoria, he began to rinse the cloth in the brine bath, watching as his blood dyed the water pink. Billy’s heart sank further. Something about the familiarity of this self care saddened him. Each gentle stroke of the rough cloth opening little doorways in his mind to -

 _“Come back to me, come back to this…”_ The demon caressing him whispered before jerking their head to Steve, who was now sneezing and wrestling with his ruined coat on the other side of the room.  
_“D’you remember his face?”_ they asked - a strange, wistful smile forming across their invisible features. _“The one he pulled at that peak moment kneeling over the guy… The sprinklers were like rain indoors and he was there, under the red lights - you can’t have forgotten it… Concentrate B, think real hard… There you go - that’s the one. He looked… He looked desperate. D’you remember how his back arched? He pushed his whole body into it - all of him wrapped up in that motion, B… And those lips...”_

Interrupted by another one of Steve’s sneezes, Billy looked down, confused how he’d managed to clean half the wound without noticing. He braced himself - no fucking way, that's too.. that's too deep. Despite how much it'd hurt, he'd only done the outer areas. Now he had to attend to the deepest part.

 _“He looks kinda cute right now don’t you think? All dishevelled - I like the blood on him, he wears it well… Sure, he seems disturbed now… seems guilty now… but in that life and death moment, he was alive! Kinda like you. He shone - did what had to be done B and better yet, he_ _liked_ _it.”_

I can't do this, I - He shook his head - You have to, you have to - Spreading the contusion to allow a more thorough clean, Billy peered over at Steve again, light-headed as he held the cloth just above it’s destination. 3, 2… fuck, I can’t… 3, 2, 1 -

The demon gripped him tighter.

_“I reckon he enjoyed messing that guy up…  I mean, he really took his time with some of the nails - stunning precision. I think we only get that with uh… shit - I don’t even know - weights?”_

Billy closed his eyes.

_“Shh - hey… can you imagine if that was us? Pinned to the ground and looking up at that face? All of his focus entirely on you - d’you reckon he’d be proud of us? I think… I think we’d take it - if we really wanted to, I bet you we’d look beautiful - most importantly, we’d be quiet - well quieter. I think he would like that.”_

Spitting the shirt out and panting, Billy wiped the tears from his eyes as he tried to shut down the fantasy. What the fuck - who... thinks like this? Fucking freak, he cursed silently, moving to put the cloth down. But it wasn't the cloth - somehow, it was now a phone. When did I - Fuck this, he thought; disoriented by his record-breaking recovery yet still hurting as he struggled to stand. Food. If he’d finished dealing with the worst injury then eating had to come next. Holding a dressing over his side, Billy let his growling stomach do the talking.

“Pizza?”

“Huh?”

“Do you want food? I’m starving, I haven’t eaten all day and I can’t be asked to cook right now.”

“Y’think that’s safe?” Steve asked, his paranoia evident in the slight wobble of his voice.

“What d’you mean? It’s just pizza.” Billy replied, frustrated.

“Like - I dunno, what if they can track us or something?”

“Through Domino’s?” Billy laughed loudly and coughed, regretting the mockery as his bruised ribs strained. “If someone shows up to blow our brains out because we ordered this pizza, then I guess we’re just destined to die today.”

 

* * *

 

 

Steve stared at his empty glass and examined the slight milky staining around its edges. Screwing his face up, he tried rubbing away the evidence of an improper rinse and cringed at the bloody smears he was leaving. Paranoid and embarrassed, he looked behind him to see if Billy was occupied before wiping the mess off with his shirt which only made it worse, so he placed the dirty glass on the table and pushed it to the far corner. The further it was from him, the less responsible he felt for it.

Steve was scared to the point of numbness so he’d made the heroic decision to get as drunk as humanly possible - a task he couldn’t fuck up. Providing Billy kept the drinks coming, Steve would do the world a favour and not go into panic mode. Nobody liked him when he was stressed and anyway, people seemed to respond to him better when he wasn’t sober. Mind made up, he waited on the sofa, picking at his hands as Billy placed their order.

None of this was supposed to have happened and very little of it made sense to him. As much as Steve had tried to erase the images of what he’d seen in the quarantine, every time he closed his eyes, the mutated Mrs Brown was right there, rasping in front of him. He didn’t want to believe the similarities - the black grease, rows of teeth, sinewy, contorted limbs… and yet, it was unavoidable. Steve was going to need all the help he could get if he was to successfully convince himself this wasn’t real, and that’s where the vodka came in. The problem was, the bottle was glued to Billy who was still dithering in the kitchen.

What the fuck was taking him so long? The phone call ended minutes ago?! Determined to not be some asshole buzzkill, Steve tried to focus on the positives, like how pizza was on its way and even though his glass was empty… soon, it would be replenished.

Steve’s attempt at positivity lasted around thirty seconds before his subconscious crashed the party, repeating the same phrase over and over - _you almost died today._ That would make it twice over the course of two months he’d almost died and Steve was _not_ okay with that. At both events, Billy was there at the heart of it - whether he was trying to stab him, use him as bait, fight alongside him or holding a gun to his head… none of it was relevant because in Harrington’s eyes the dots were now connected. Billy Hargrove was dangerous and yet here he was - sitting on his fucking sofa, freezing his ass off and eying up the spot where (on his last visit here) the man’d made Steve cum.

Oh, and on top of it all, Billy shot a cop today. That happened.

In Steve’s eyes, the pair were deader than dead and he’d reached a point now where he was _so_ freaked out, there almost… wasn’t anything else to feel. Being that he couldn’t see any means of escape from his situation, Harrington resigned himself to the horrible death that was awaited him if he dared leave the couch. He was split - his survival brain shaking him by the shoulders and screaming at him to get away from Billy, reminding him that the man was clearly _not okay_. But on the other side of the table - he didn’t want to leave. Hargrove had after all saved Steve’s life. The way he saw it, he could either stay here and freak out, or go home and freak out. At least here, there would be free pizza and he wouldn’t be alone.

 _Finally_ , Steve thought to himself as Billy placed the vodka on the table. He watched the man lower himself slowly into an armchair and Steve winced. Hargrove’s body was damaged; his torso littered with minor injuries and angry blue/green bruises blossoming around the ribs. There was more. Steve squinted at him as subtly as he could, tracking the burn marks across his shoulders, letting his eyes make their way to the scarring on his abdomen. Those were old - how’d he miss those? Billy had been topless the day he’d come over to apologise but Steve couldn’t remember seeing the scarring, and the burns… they were new - some less than a day old. The man was a master at hiding his pain and as inappropriate as it was, Steve was jealous of him for that.

Then he noticed the large wound dressing stuck crudely to Billy’s side. What the fuck would’ve done that? There were no knives, no glass - just a… Oh.

“Were you _shot?”_ Steve asked weakly, trying to mask the concern in his voice.

“Looks that way. Just caught the side - clean exit. Fucking thing won’t stop bleeding.” Billy replied casually, pouring himself a generous glass from the bottle.

“Alcohol won’t help that.”

“What? Why?”

“Thins the blood - prevents it from coagulating. Y’taken painkillers?”

“Yes - Why?” Billy held the glass to his lips, looking at Steve suspiciously.

“Well, there you go. Alcohol and painkillers - that’s why it’s bleeding all over the place. Just, lay off the spirits?”

The man snorted, “Whatever - I’m not _not_ going to drink. I’m not ending today sober, no fucking chance. Fuck that. If I bleed out, at least I do so blissfully drunk.” And with that, he emptied his glass, shaking his head before preparing himself another.

Steve rolled his eyes, abandoning his concern for Billy as he reached for his own glass. Who the fuck was he to judge? After all, he was planning on doing the exact same thing. With no prompting from Steve, Billy leaned over to give him his refill and smiled humorously. “What?” Steve asked, his eyes darting to the side.

“Maybe you should get yourself cleaned up? Y’look like a mess, your face…” The man bit back a snigger, “You should see it - it’s something else.”

“Jesus,” Steve began, suddenly very self conscious. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Uh - _shit!”_ He swore, noticing the stains he’d left on the pale grey sofa, “I didn’t realise, I’m sorry about the mess - fuck, I didn’t-”

“Chill, ‘s’alright, don’t worry - I can get it out. It’s all garbage anyway.”

“Okay, uh, the bathroom?”

“There - door on the right. You gotta wait a minute or two for the water to heat up. Need anything?”

“No-” Steve replied, downing the vodka as he stood, “Just a top-up.”

Billy smiled again and nodded obligingly. This getting drunk thing was gonna be easy, he mused to himself and as he wandered to the bathroom, Steve took a moment to look behind him at the man who’d fallen back into his chair, groaning and clutching his head. He sighed sadly. Steve had no idea what to do or say and he knew he’d only fuck it up if he tried, so he turned his back on Hargrove and slipped into the bathroom - confused by his feelings and angry at his inability to do anything about them.

Billy’s bathroom was as expected - functional, cluttered and cold. A standing shower was all he had aside from the obvious, and Steve frowned at the lack of a bath. He didn’t have time to bathe often but he felt comforted knowing he could if he wanted to. He wondered when the last time Billy had the opportunity to soak in a proper bath and once again, found himself saddened as he considered that maybe, he simply hadn’t. Biting his lip, Steve distracted himself from his melancholy by inspecting the shower system before switching it on and turning to the mirror - a move he immediately regretted.

The face that greeted him was as Billy had said - something else. Bloodied and bruised with ink smeared over his cheeks, Steve looked at himself in despair and cringed, unsure at this point whose blood he was wearing. He really had to stop wiping his face when stressed. Leaning in close to the mirror, Steve noticed his lip was also split - finally an explanation for the stinging that occurred when he tried to smile. Jesus, and I tried to give him a lecture about drinking on painkillers… whilst looking like _this,_ he groaned to himself as he peeled his sticky hair from his forehead.

Despite his initial disgust at his reflection, Steve felt the image made sense - the perfect portrait of a monster. That’s who he was, a fucking monster. Only an evil person could do what he’d done today. Fuck, he didn’t deserve this shower.

Dragging himself away from the now steamed up mirror, he began to undress, revealing his wounded torso. Damn - Steve’s bruising put Billy’s to _shame._ He’d always bruised easily, growing up he’d learned to take this as some kind of weakness (yet another to add to the collection) but today… just… Wow.

Face expressionless, Steve tested the shower temperature and climbed in. He stood for a moment, watching as the water was dyed a dirty purple-ish brown from the combination of blood and ink. To his surprise, he found himself thinking of the pen Billy’d thrown out the cab window. It wasn’t that he liked the elegant pen, infact he’d hated it, it was just his mom had bought it for him - a gift to celebrate his promotion. There was no phone call that day, no visit or vocal expression of pride, only a bland, essentially wordless card and that pen.

Even though he’d despised the wretched thing, Steve had treasured it to remind himself of a time where his parents had felt proud of him. Their praise was given rarely, usually hard to unpick from their casual put-downs, so when they actually did choose to grace him with it, Steve clung on tight.

And what’d he used their thoughtful expression of parental love for? To torture a man into submission, rendering their hand unusable. Said it all really.

Selecting one of Billy’s cheap body-washes, Steve set to work cleaning himself, wincing as soap bit into his abrasions. Somehow, he had to tell Hargrove about the Upside Down. They had to talk about it, he knew that, yet he was afraid revisiting it would bring the whole nightmare back again. Not only that, but Steve also had to trust that Billy wouldn’t fly off the handles - something he’d be more reassured of if the stupid man hadn’t kept the damn gun. He shuddered. In his heart he knew Billy wasn’t actually going to kill him but when he’d held that gun to Steve’s head, it wasn’t _Billy_ with the finger on the trigger. Not the one he’d entered the hospital with at any rate. There’d been a lot of those ‘not Billy’ moments over the course of the evening and he found it unsettling, but what did he know? It wasn’t like he was close friends with the guy or anything - he hadn’t spent enough time with Hargrove to truly get to know him. Maybe that furious creature was the real deal.  

Looking down at his body, Steve found himself laughing as he caught sight of his dick. The shit he’d done to Billy… Fucking hell. “What even is my life?” He mumbled into the cold tiles now pressed against his face before turning the shower off, almost skidding over as he lost footing on the slick floor. The man needed a bath mat - how Hargrove hadn’t fallen and died would remain a mystery to him from this point onwards. If Steve had fallen to his death though, it would be a fitting end to this fucking ridiculous day - sprawled naked on Billy’s bathroom floor before he’d even eaten. Wonderful.

He did have towels though - that was a start. Pulling one of them off the railings and moving to dry his face, Steve paused. It smelled like Billy. Holding the towel to his nose, he breathed in deep and felt his shoulders relax. He loved this particular fragrance and combined with the softness of the material, it felt like he was hugging his own face - an instant calming tool. He thought for a moment how best to steal the towel but scolded himself quickly. That’d be the alcohol kicking in. “You can behave and all.” he scowled, still clutching the towel as he noticed his growing rigidity.

Focus Steve. Slapping himself around the face, he set upon vigorously drying himself, blinking unevenly upon spotting the pile of filthy clothes. Shit. He’d forgotten that normal people usually need clothes when at others houses. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he exited the bathroom and froze.

 

* * *

 

 

Puzzled, Billy followed the delivery guys gaze behind him to the half naked man standing by the bathroom door, clutching a towel. He inhaled suddenly and returned his attention to the kid holding the pizza, their eyes darting between the pair of them suspiciously. Unable to focus and irritated by the mans judgemental stare, Billy snatched the boxes and flung a twenty dollar bill onto the balcony before slamming the door shut harshly. Screw the change. Rotating on his heel, Billy slung the pizza onto the coffee table and turned to face Steve, a slice already in his mouth.

“Y’can turn ‘round now.” He said with his mouth full before biting back a grin. Harrington was bruised to shit - it was _incredible_. That, coupled with his bashful shyness and dripping hair hanging over his face, painted a picture of Steve he’d never forget.

“Uhh, weird one, but - can I borrow some clothes?” The man asked, trying to avoid looking at him directly. Raising his eyebrows, Billy nodded, throwing the slice onto the table and covering his mouth as he rolled off the sofa and stumbled into his room.

For the first time in his memory, Billy felt self conscious about his wardrobe. It was one thing dressing himself in his shitty clothes but a different matter entirely when going to dress someone else. Especially Steve. He just had to find something clean that he wouldn’t _hate_ himself for putting the man in - not an easy task. When it came to Billy’s room and personal possessions, he usually gave up on all maintenance, but now - it felt like the laundry mountain beside him had just given him the finger and spat “Serves you right asshole.”.

_“You could just… not give him any clothes… save all this stress and gain a little eye candy - y’need cheering up anyway.”_

“Fuck off” He hissed, trying to ignore his demon who was now sprawled over Billy’s unmade bed. Something was seriously off with his cursed headmate and he was growing disconcerted by their obsession with Harrington. Truth be told, it left him feeling unsafe. Finally deciding on sweatpants, t-shirt and baggy hoody, he stood, almost falling over with headrush. Steadying himself, he sped out the door and slung Steve the clothes before diving back to the pizza.

“Thanks.” He heard the man say and Billy nodded, inhaling the rest of the slice and reaching for another. Wait - why wasn’t Steve moving? He looked over his shoulder to find Steve just staring at him with a single eyebrow cocked to the side.

“What?” He asked through a mouthful of food.

“Y’not gonna change or anything?” Billy said nothing and returned Steve’s stare. “You’re soaked through man.”

Rolling his eyes, he folded the pizza into a small parcel and shoved it into his mouth as he begrudgingly trecked back to his room.

Screw this, he thought to himself, swallowing and falling against the wall as he tried to wrestle himself out of his tight, damp jeans. The man had a point and this annoyed him. Walking to the laundry pile, Billy spotted his reflection in the floor-length mirror. His body was like a mosaic and he looked on hatefully at the myriad of cuts, burns and scars that decorated him. He felt his heart sink. Even with all the effort he’d put into getting stronger, he still felt weak. There was a time his body hadn’t been entirely fucked across it’s surface and he found himself panicking, unsure quite where it’d all gone wrong.

 

Billy tensed, feeling his Persecutor sneak up behind him, kissing his ears and shoulders, _“It’s not that bad - it’s been worse.”_ He looked again at the deep scarring across his stomach and exhaled mournfully. _“Don’t be like that - it shows how much you can take B, shows how_ _tough_ _you are. All of it - every single mark… Allows him to see just how strong you can be.”_

He disagreed, reaching to stroke the fresh burn marks on his shoulder from this mornings meltdown, allowing his fingers to trace around the others that were dotted across his upper arm.

 _“Those too…”_ The shadow continued, wrapping their arms around him and nosing into his neck.

Silently and a little spaced out, Billy switched the exploratory fingers to a thumb and drew a line with it down his torso where the deeper scars lay, hovering over them before turning to his side to see the bloody dressing. For reasons unknown, he sucked in his stomach and flexed, twisting to pose in the mirror.

_“There - see? You’re stunning.”_

Coming back to himself and noticing what he was doing, Billy stopped immediately, backing away from his reflection and began to dress himself urgently. He couldn’t look at himself anymore.

_“Hey, you were doing so well. Y’never know, he may like them.”_

The thought made him gag, recalling how Chris had been fascinated with his damage but the blush spreading across his cheeks wasn’t due to shame… Deep down, a part of him hoped that Steve would _get it._ An impossibility, he knew, considering Billy himself had no idea what the fuck was going on. Fully dressed, he grabbed a brush and began attacking his matted hair, doing his best to get rid of the dried blood caked around the ends.

 _“What if… what if he wanted to make marks of his own?”_ Billy stopped again, brush caught in his hair as he considered his Other’s suggestion. Then he realised the insanity behind such a thought. Screwing his face up, he brushed his hair harder. _“Just think about it - would give us some that we actually liked, a little positive memory over the shittier ones. That way, we could carry him with us everywhere.”_ At a loss, he gave up, throwing the brush across the room.

“You okay? Billy?”

Shit. Snapping out of his internal discourse, Billy fell out of his room and came face-to-face with Steve standing in the clothes he’d lent him.

“You alright? You kinda vanished - it’s been like, ten minutes.”

“Sorry, I’m fine - just zoned out.” He replied, avoiding making eye-contact as he pushed past Steve, returning to the pizza that was almost cold. The silence was was too loud. Switching the TV on, Billy watched as Steve joined him, grabbing a piece of his own. He watched as the man stared at it thankfully before taking a massive bite and sinking into the sofa. Billy was relieved Steve wasn’t a graceful eater - it helped him feel less like trash.

“You enjoying that?” He asked playfully, looking on affectionately as the man closed his eyes blissfully.

Steve nodded and swallowed, also smiling, “I love pizza, dude.”

Billy chuckled, “I can see that - well there’s two so go mad.”

 

* * *

 

 

The world may be about to end, but there was a silver lining in all this, Steve thought as his slightly drunk tongue wrapped around the slice - Domino’s existed. He wondered whether there’d be a Domino’s in hell (where he knew he was destined to end up), and he sighed. No. Probably a Pizza Hut. A crowded Pizza Hut at 5pm on a Friday during the summer vacation. With two kids parties. That was what awaited him upon his imminent death - an eternity of trying to talk to someone who wasn’t really listening over the deafening sound-system of a pizza hut, eating substandard food, surrounded by screaming kids as the waitresses tried to get him to sing ‘Happy Birthday’.

In comparison, eating Domino’s on the couch with Billy only meters away from a loaded gun, was a joy.

For a while, the pair remained spaced out watching TV, hardly paying attention to what was happening on the screen and Steve found himself almost laughing again. He was tickled by how  ridiculously normal this was considering what had happened literally two hours ago. Somehow, he still had to tell Billy but before that was ever going to happen, he’d need another large drink. Or two. And maybe an entire pack of cigarettes. He leaned over to the vodka bottle, “Can I?” he asked to which Billy nodded, devouring his seventh slice with ease - Jesus, the man could eat.

“Y’want any?” Steve offered and once again, Billy nodded. Unscrewing the cap, he poured their glasses to the halfway mark, oblivious to Hargrove’s stunned expression. With great effort, he stood and whipped out his cigarettes but before he could walk to the window, Billy piped up.

“Y’don’t have to -” He began before clearing his throat, “You can smoke in here, it’s fine.”

Steve sighed in relief and slumped back onto the sofa, accepting gratefully Billy’s own makeshift ashtray now handed to him. Dr Pepper - good choice. He’d have to remember that, he thought to himself as he sparked up, inhaling deeply and watching the smoke curl up from his nose. How the fuck was he supposed to start this conversation? How do you just say to a guy “We aren’t alone in this universe - there are others out here, terrifying dimensions with horrific monsters and guess what, yer boy here’s been right up in that shit, and now it’s back!”. Steve had no idea what he was supposed to do now so he turned to the class of clear, bitter liquid for support.  
Maybe he wouldn’t have to say anything - Maybe it’ll -

“So, you’ve seen this shit before?”

Steve coughed on his smoke and stared at Billy, instantly cornered, “Wha-”

“You said ‘not again’ - you’ve implied over and over again that you’ve seen this before.” He said, his eyes fixed on Steve who sunk deeper into the sofa. “So… Now you’ve calmed down, care to tell me what the fuck’s going on?”

 

* * *

 

 

Billy watched with mild fascination as Steve tilted his head back, swallowing the entirety of his vodka. He was steadily getting wasted and whilst Billy had drunk near the same amount as him, he’d spent almost everyday drinking so he’d developed a high tolerance. He studied Harrington’s body carefully to monitor his moods and what he saw offered him little comfort for what was about to hit. The man sitting in front of him, shaking his head as he sucked on his cigarette was not okay. Sure, he was smiling but Billy knew terror well, and it seemed that Steve’d reached that point of fear where he’d simply gone beyond caring.

“Okay, so - the thing is. Shit, how the hell do I say any of this?” He said eventually, laughing nervously, his eyes glued to his empty glass.

“What was in there - what was that?” Billy asked, hoping he could ease the man into it.

“I dunno.”

“You ‘dunno’? What do you know then?”

Steve sniggered, “Not much Billy, not much at all.” Billy puffed his cheeks and nursed his own glass. “I think - I know the ‘them’ they were talking about - pretty sure I do anyway.”

“The who?”

“The others - the ones looking for bodies, y’know, the patients like your friend.”

“Wait,” Billy began, his brows furrowed in confusion, “So that was real? I thought it was just some joke - thought he was bullshitting us.”

“Nope, it was real. Real, real, real.” Steve mumbled, puffing on his smoke.

“Who are they then?”

The man snorted and looked into the corner, “Y’wouldn’t fucking believe me if I told you - like, _I_ don’t believe me.”

Billy knocked back his shot and grabbed a cigarette of his own, leaning forward in his chair as he flicked open his lighter. “Try me.”

Sighing and smiling despairingly, Steve closed his eyes before dropping the bomb. “Crazy, jacked-up monsters from another dimension.” He then turned to look at Billy who just blinked at him. What the fuck? “See, told you.” He concluded, lifting his glass to the light to check for residual droplets.

Was he trying to take the piss here? Hargrove thought, irritation making his fingers itch. If anyone else on the planet had said something like that, he’d have flattened them for wasting his time, but something in his guests behaviour told him to suspend his disbelief. “For real though - who were they talking about?”

Steve raised an eyebrow and lowered his glass onto the table before looking Billy in the eyes, “... crazy, jacked-up monsters from another dimension.” he repeated, tonelessly. The pair remained silent for a moment, staring at each other until Harrington burst out laughing again. Billy flexed his hands, unsure what was going on. “Look,” Steve said, wiping his eyes, “If I was lying, right, surely I’d pick a lie that didn’t make me look _this_ much of a lunatic? I’m not _that_ drunk.”

Billy considered this and still unsure what to believe, he took a drag from his smoke, “Okay, so - aaahhh, right. Fuck. So, if I was mad enough to entertain this, how the hell do you - Steve Harrington - know?”

“Complete accident - complete _shitting_ accident.”

“How - when did you find out?” He asked, reclining in his chair and grimacing in pain, holding his cigarette to the side as he continued to study the man sitting opposite him.

“High school.”

“Y’serious?”

“Yup.” Steve replied, sincerely, “The kids - Dustin and that lot - found out first, but at that point it was just this Byers boy who’d been kidnapped by the Demogorgon.”

“Demo - what now?”

“Demogorgon - I dunno, ask Dustin. Was this huge bipedal reptilian thing with a face that opened like a lily made of teeth. Killed Barb and all.”

“What, Barb? Who’s Barb?”

“Nancy’s mate, anyway, she died and this military lab covered it up. It was supposed to be over but it came back, within a year the whole fucking thing came back.”

Screwing his face up, Billy did his best to process the information provided, “Hang on - when was this again?”

Steve grinned darkly, hands trembling slightly as he lit his second smoke. “The year you arrived.”

 _“What?!”_ Billy exclaimed, his eyes wide, “You’re saying this happened before I -”

“Before, during and after.”

“Fuck me.” He groaned, puffing his cheeks and exhaling forcefully, “This was going on whilst I was here?”

“Right under your fucking nose, man. You have _no_ idea.” Steve laughed nervously, “You know that night?”

“What night?” Inside Billy’s brain, cogs were trying to turn but none could complete their rotation which left him anxious.

“The night you came over to kick the crap outta some children - Y’know, the night you almost killed me.”

Why… Why was this relevant? Billy could just about picture the layout of ‘that night’, but it was hazy - looking at the memory was like trying to see through a clouded window that steamed up as soon as you’d wiped it. He remembered the rage though. Rage, hatred, fear and… that out of control feeling - just no linear chain of events. “Yeah, kinda.” He replied eventually, his headaches returning.

Steve snorted loudly and shook his head, “Kinda?! Ha! I’m unsure if I should be offended or -”

“No, no - I remember, it’s just blurry… I remember fighting you but… that’s about it.”

“Jesus, your memory’s shite, y’know that? Fucking hell, right… anyway, get this…” Steve said, leaning over and pointing his cigarette at Billy, “This whole thing… _this is why the kids and I were at the house that night!”_ He rolled back again, cackling to himself with a tortured expression, “The Byers boy’s brain had been taken over by this monster ‘over-lord’ they called the ‘Mindflayer’. Dustin - he dragged my ass into it the second time ‘round because he’d kept one of these monsters as a pet-”

“A pet?!” Billy repeated, trying to keep up.

“Yeah, that’s Dustin y’see? Besides, it was a smaller version - like, as if you were to put a dog in a nuclear reactor and it came out with spiky tentacles instead of a face.”

“And he kept it as a pet.”

“Yeah, anyway - moving on…” Steve continued, grinning giddily and clutching his stomach as if he was about to be sick, “I’d already fucked up one of these things with a bat - I dunno -  I think that’s why they trusted me? I was older and bigger - who fucking knows anymore. But yeah, Dustin wanted help with this thing because it killed his mom’s cat and escaped.  
They were gonna do it anyway - all ready to go save the world, nobody giving a shit if they got themselves killed in the process. I couldn’t let them go by themselves, could I? So I helped them sort out this trap in this junkyard, and I was out there with this nail bat again being ‘volunteer bait’ to lure them in…. But there were tonnes of the cunts.”

Billy watched, unsettled, as the man stubbed out his cigarette and picked at his hands.

“I fought them as best as I could, but then they kinda just left - called away but their master - so we came back to the Byers house and whilst the adults fucked off to go defeat the Mindflayer, close the inter-dimensional gates and whatever, I was stuck babysitting.” Steve looked down, his hair shielding his eyes from view.  
“I tried man - I _fucking tried_ to stop them from doing anything stupid. Gave them shit to do, clean up the house to help Mrs Byers and keep ‘em occupied, but then… but then… You. _”_

Billy flinched, growing increasingly uneasy the more Harrington laughed to himself. He didn’t like where this was going and he knew there was nothing he could do to make it better - not when the recollection was coming from Steve. “Me?” Billy asked, worried.

“You… You _show up outta fucking blue at that fucking door, man! You were_ _there!!!_ _”_ The man yelled before falling backwards, cackling - his whole body shaking.

“What’re you - No. I was looking for Max, I didn’t have a choice - I was looking for Max. I didn’t see shit. If something was going on, I would’ve noticed, I -”

 _“WOULD YOU?”_ Steve shouted, glaring straight at Billy who straightened his back, trying not to show the level of confusion and distress he was feeling. “You were out for _blood!_ You were laying into Dustin’s little mates like they’d ruined your entire _fucking life!_ You weren’t listening to a thing! I was _only_ there to keep them safe, do you understand that? To protect them - that included your stupid sister, and you…” He paused, snatching the vodka from the table and pouring himself a glass, unable to look at Billy now, “You know what you fucking did.”

Body cramping with shame, Hargrove remained wordless - stunned into silence by Steve’s condemnation. Pins and needles crept through this limbs as he did his best to form a clearer picture of that night - appalled at the version of himself his guest was describing. He remembered white noise - a kinda static agitating his muscles… and a blankness - some sort of… sensory overload where everything was loud. And then… Oh my god. They _were_ children - Steve was right. Eyes widening in shock, he stared at the ceiling.

“If Max hadn’t tranqued you I’d be dead. I dunno if you’ve ever properly thought about that. Twice now - no, _three_ times I could’ve died at your hands, and now I’m here-” Steve coughed, choking on the strong liquor as he gestured to himself, “Sitting in _your_ apartment, wearing _your fucking clothes ten years later_ … Eating pizza like _that_ didn’t happen… Trying to tell you about the return of the _very same horseshit that similarly to you, almost killed me and everyone else in this wretched town!”_ He grinned bitterly and raised his glass to Billy. “The world’s gone fucking _insane_ , Hargrove.”

Unable to speak, Billy kept his gaze away from Harrington who’d necked the rest of his drink. The man cleared his throat and he braced himself - his stasis the only way he could contain his reactions invisibly whilst also staying present. He was a cunt and no one was safe from him. Not even kids.

“D’you know what really takes the fucking cake though, Billy? I came to after you’d knocked me out in the back of _your_ Chamero, being driven by _your_ sister and even though I could hardly open my fucking eyes, I _still_ had to go with them _…_ Still had to drag my broken ass into that fucked up dimension to keep them safe, and for what?” Steve rubbed his eyes, his voice breaking ever so slightly, “I… I saved the lives of a group of children who at the end of it all, couldn’t give a shit. Helped save my ex and did she care? No fucking way. Y’see? No one gave a shit, Billy, _no one._ They just kicked it under the rug as soon as the portal’d closed - patted each other on the back, cheered the… the end and moved on… and yet I fucking didn’t, did I?”

Numb and lured by the genuine hurt in the man’s voice, Hargrove looked to Steve who was pointing at himself, his face contorted with self-hatred and fury. This was the most real Billy had ever seen him, and somehow that made his explosion all the more powerful.

“I… fuck this… Now - now, it’s just me, Dustin - the highest creature on the planet - and you. The guy who almost killed me. And the guy I… Am I crazy? Because I feel fucking crazy, man - I’m _terrified outta my goddamn mind!_ I dunno what that thing was in that hospital, but it’s fucking connected and I can’t… I can’t just… I am just… I’m just Steve, okay? Steve fucking Harrington and I can’t… I can’t deal with this, I need a piss.” And with that, he got to his feet, shielding his eyes as he stumbled into the bathroom. 

Alone now, Billy curled over on himself, gripping his sides tightly. He’d never considered the damage he’d done to Steve - not properly anyway. He’d always hated himself for being an asshole but this was different. He was… aching for what he’d done, his insides bruised by the impact of seeing Harrington genuinely suffering for Billy’s existence. He had no idea what was going on still but all that supernatural bullshit didn’t seem to matter. Not now. Not in this space where only a few meters from him hidden behind a closed door, Steve was breaking down.

_He was trying to protect her._

 

* * *

 

As the door slammed shut behind him, Steve fell backwards against the wall. Holding his head in his hands, he gritted his teeth before allowing gravity to take over - slowly sliding onto the floor where he sat, waiting for the world to stop spinning.

He was disgusted at himself, humiliated by his oversharing and stupid, self-absorption. If he could, he would take all that… personal crap back. No one needed to know any of it and it wasn’t like his shit was important. _Y’can’t… unsay it now, idiot - this is why you keep your mouth shut,_ he seethed to himself silently, pressing his face into his knees.

Steve hated reliving the past. Fucking loathed it. The memories themselves weren’t the problem - well, they were but primarily, it was how in almost all of them, he remembered himself as pathetic. Pathetic in how he wanted to distract himself from heartbreak by helping those kids. Pathetic that he cared so little for his life that he used himself as bait. Pathetic because no one would listen to him. Pathetic he was seen as so… useless and thick he was resigned to babysitting duty - something he only accepted because he just wanted to be involved and not alone. Which, once again, was pathetic.

And he’d lost to Billy. He’d failed at his duty - his _only_ duty- leaving it to a faster, cleverer CHILD to take the man down. And at the end of it all, he said nothing. Expressed no feeling whatsoever, choosing to hang out with a group of kids because he was tired of having to work so hard to be ‘cool’ - something Dustin’s group cared little for. Even so, he’d buried that fear down, knowing full well there was no use for scared men because that’s what Steve was - scared. He always had been.

Without thinking, he leant backwards and pulled Billy’s towel off the railing again, holding it to his nose. He just needed to smell him again… for a moment… Fuck, he was a disgrace.

This action alone described all anyone would need to know about how hopeless Steve was. He was drunk, but that didn’t forgive him of his fucked-up and poorly understood pull to the man. Looking to the door to check he was still definitely alone, he resumed his self-soothing, breathing in deep the scent of a guy who’d stabbed him, and one Steve himself had hurt over and over again. Brutally.

What the fuck’s _wrong with me?_ How the hell did this… very Hargrove item and his ridiculously baggy clothes bring him so much comfort? This shouldn’t work - it couldn’t work - especially when the extent of their interactions were twisted and perverted. Steve had no idea how his life’d got here and he loathed himself more as he realised that he was _still holding the fucking towel._

He had to say sorry. He had to grow the fuck up, get over himself and apologise to the man for bringing up the past like that - for straying from the point. They still hadn’t spoken about today and as much he’d gladly hang himself with the resistance band hanging on the door, tomorrow was gonna arrive and Billy hadn’t a clue what he’d walked into.

Maybe a few more drinks would do the trick. Keep drinking until - Jesus Christ, _put the damn towel down asshole!_ Furious at himself, Steve slung it across the room. Get it together - sort your _fucking_ shit out, he repeated and on wobbly legs, he stood, a hand grasping the sink as he waited for the vertigo to subside. “Fuck… you… Just, get out there and… and be normal.” He grunted to himself in the mirror before returning to the living room - the empty living room.

  
Billy was gone and so, Steve noticed, was the bottle of shitty vodka.

“Where’d he - fucking hell.” He said aloud, kicking the wall before searching the apartment anxiously. He shut up immediately as he spotted him leaning out the window, glass in hand whilst he smoked. “Thank Christ.” He whispered under his breath, rubbing his face.

Billy was motionless and completely silent - the man’s dirty blonde hair preventing Steve from reading his expression. He paused for a while, observing the way Hargrove hovered the cigarette dangerously close to his wrist before flicking the butt away.

“Hey,” He began nervously, pushing aside the swell of disappointment as the man continued to stare out the window. “Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost it like that, I-”

“Don’t.”

“Huh?”

“Just - Don’t. Don’t be sorry.”

“But I-”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for - let’s drop it, okay? If anyone’s got something to apologise for, it’s me.”

“Yeah, but I-” he managed before trailing off as Hargrove rolled out from under the window-frame, perching himself against the ledge. Breath caught in his throat, Steve did his best not to stare at Billy’s profile outlined in gold by the streetlights - the illumination was perfect.

“Not now.” The man said sincerely, taking him back by surprise. “Not now, not today. Another time we’ll look at that.”

Determined to not kill the moment, Steve nodded and the pair returned to the sofas. Once Billy was seated, Harrington bit the bullet, “So - the quarantine…”

“Yes, the quarantine - what do you know?”

“I think… I think the ‘them’ they referred to may be the Mindflayer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're here! Made it to Phase 2!
> 
> Hello to all my regulars - I'm sorry for the wait, been planning this Phase for weeks and wanted this chapter to be a hard hitter, especially after Date Night.  
> For any new readers, I tend to post long chapters on a weekly/biweekly basis and I try to keep events/kink acts secret till the day of posting where I start updating the tag list. I would also like to say that, when I started this fic, I wasn't taking it seriously - well I was, but not on a huge project level, however since around Chapter 8 of You've Gotta Be Kidding Me, I've begun treating this like the real deal for my own nefarious purposes. If you are returning to Phase 1 to catch up, I applaud you!  
> On the subject of content and my boys... It's gonna get worse before it gets better, not gonna lie. My regulars know I'm taking these guys to hell, but we've got a long way to go yet. Some of the content as this story goes on is gonna get challenging and I will do my best to warn where appropriate of certain subjects. With regards to Billy... You may need context from some of Phase 1, but if you are game for a medical mystery then let's do this!  
> Ultimately, there _will_ be a happy ending. I've written the final scenes, planned the later stage fluff, so I know these guys will be rewarded for what I've got in store for them. In my end notes, I tend to go over some of the themes that come up in the chapters mostly to explain the significance of some of the more brutal aspects. No one is obliged to read it XD Some people enjoy it though as a commentary.  
>  Dedicated to my two most interactive readers whose joint perceptiveness and enthusiasm has helped me in my personal life, continue when I thought I couldn't and in the end, helped shape the story itself. Your comments make some of the tough writing worth it and I adore you, so here's to you **Onatopp** and **Utterday** \- No idea who you are but who even cares. 
> 
> Here we go - Phase fucking 2! _Onwards!!!_


	2. Vodka and a Loaded Gun. Pt 2.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having apologised once to Billy, Steve tries again to explain about the Upside Down but Hargrove's memory is proving to be a problem. Fighting to contain his frustration, Steve attempts to convince Billy to ditch the gun and as tempers rise, fear pushes Harrington to explode. Reeling from his guests verbal attack, Billy retreats to his bedroom where collapsing to the floor, he battles to get control over his body as his 'Demon' uses his pain against him. 
> 
> Intoxicated, a guilty Steve falls through the door to apologise _again_ for his spite but as Billy's hold on his mind weakens, Hargrove removes himself from his guest only to find that his body is no longer his own. Powerless to intervene, Billy is dragged behind a version of himself intent on using Steve to neutralise their pain. Unaware of the trap he's walked into, Steve is seduced by a more cunning Billy into a mindfuck with near deadly results.

Working hard to minimise his pain, Billy tried to stay focused. “Mindflayer - the ‘overlord’ right? You’re gonna have to explain.”

“Dustin’s the best person to ask if I’m honest but essentially, it’s this creature that uses mind control. The monsters from the other dimension are kinda bound to each other like a super-organism and at the centre of it all, the Mindflayer. Anything connected to it has to obey. Anyway, this thing took over Will - the boy I told you about.”

“How?”

“I dunno - I wasn’t filled in on a lot of it. All I know is, Will looked normal to everyone else but on the inside he was being controlled by the Mindflayer. He couldn’t fight it alone. He tried though - strong little guy.”

Uncomfortable with the recurring similarities shared by himself and Will Byers, Billy began to play with his lighter - flicking the cap on and off to distract himself. “D’you reckon that’s what’s going on with those unlucky fucks at the hospital?” He asked, trying to stay interactive.

Steve grimaced. “Yeah, I think so, but it  _ never _ looked like… that. From what Dustin told us, this creatures goal was to ‘conquer and destroy’. Through information gathered from Will, the Mindflayer coordinated the attack, telling their devil dogs where to go and what to do.”

“Like a coach in play, right?”

“YES!” The man exclaimed, punching the couch cushion, “Exactly! Jesus, I tried using analogies like that on the day but the kids all looked at me like I was a freakin’ idiot.”

“Makes perfect sense to me. War is a game. If you can win it, it’s a fucking game, y’just gotta know the play - in this case, establish your enemies position and capability, then adjust accordingly.”

Steve’s face lit up, “Yes! Exactly that! Put your team members into positions best suited to their skill set! Attack, defence, wings… and your hardest players on the back bench until the right time - tire out your opposition  _ then _ pull out yer big guns.” Billy smiled to himself as his guest grew animated. “There was this gate to the dimension under the town - I reckon that’s where their star players were, y’know, the Demogorgons, but maybe - maybe there were bigger cunts hidden away, all waiting for the packs of dogs to canvas the area and weaken us.”

“So… if their team was so powerful… How the hell did you lot win?”

Steve leaned in close, looking around him dramatically - probably more so than he was aware. The vodka was working a charm on Harrington and Billy was starting to feel a bit jealous. How he’d love to be a lightweight. “Okay, you cannot tell anyone - seriously - but there was this girl-”

“A girl.” Billy said flatly, amused by the anticlimax.

“Yeah. It’s gonna sound dumb, but, y’know Jean Grey? The Phoenix from X-Men? She was like her. She could move shit with her mind, blow stuff up and jump dimensions. She and Hopper - you know him right? The cop - kinda grumpy, scruffy, looks like he’d -”

“Oh, I know Jim Hopper, y’don’t need to describe him to me.” He interrupted, lips drawn together as he raised his eyebrows, knowingly.

“Okay, well, they closed the gate. I dunno how but  _ she _ was our star player. The bastards on the other side had NO idea we had her. The whole reason the kids and I had gone into that dimension was to distract the Mindflayer so the pair could close the gate and save the town.”

“And in doing so, prevent the other team from bringing out  _ their _ hard hitters.”

“YES!”

“But the Mindflayer’s still there in Will, right? How’d you get it out? I saw him - he survived.”

Steve faltered for a moment. “They… They burnt it out.”

“They did  _ what?” _

“The monsters from the Upside Down hate heat - it hurts them. Mrs Byers and the others figured the only way they could get rid of it was to treat it like a virus ‘n burn it out. Make the vessel uninhabitable until they’re forced to leave. They didn’t set him on fire but it was basically torture. It was nasty. His mom had to do most of it.”

“His mom?” 

“Yeah - she’s a bit of a local legend.” Steve sighed wistfully. “She was so protective over him and everyone thought she was a freak, I did too for a while, but… fuck, I guess it’d be nice to have someone just… care like that. He’d be dead if not for her. Was incredible now I think about it.”

Billy frowned. He tried to recall what his mom was like all those years ago but his mind came up blank each time. He could remember little moments but it was only the same… three or four which, the more he thought about it, would only have taken up about seven hours of his childhood and as far as he was aware, his mom had been alive for at least twelve years of his early life. Wait… seven hours? Why couldn’t he remember more? He’d never thought about it before - not really… somehow he’d managed to spread that tiny collection of memories over a decade. 

“Did you want one?”

“Huh?” 

“You - never mind, just wanted to know if y’wanted another drink, y’keep spacing out.” Steve said, shaking his head and lighting another cigarette. 

Billy rubbed his nose before looking at his hands, checking to see if they were still there. 

“Y’sure you’re okay? Y’look a bit -”

“I’m fine, must be the alcohol, I dunno. Sorry. Back to what you were sayin’ - the Mindflayer just left? Where’d it go?” Steve tilted his head, looking him in the eyes as he exhaled. “Seriously, I’m fine, ignore me. Where’d the thing go?”

“Home I think.”

“So you definitely won.”

“I guess.”

“Then how… why’s it back again?”

The man’s forehead creased, “I’m unsure. I reckon someone’s trying to get the Mindflayer into more people without using gates. I dunno.”

“Why the hell would they do that? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Because they’re insane? Fucked if I knew.”

“I don’t understand - what the fuck would  _ anyone _ gain from having that… thing take over? Why would you mess with your own team?”

Steve held his breath, deep in thought before letting it go forcefully, “Maybe it’s not ‘their team’ they’re messing with?”

Billy considered this, a hand resting on his injured side, “Still… What -  _ Why? _ Y’said the goal was ‘conquer and destroy’, right? That’s like setting the beasts of hell loose in your neighbor's backyard ‘nd praying they’ll leave you alone when they’re done trashing the place. It’s fucking absurd.”

“What if they think it’ll get ‘em something? What if they don’t think they’re gonna lose?”

“Yeah but, no one’s that stupid, surely? Why’d y’risk everything like that?”

“To survive?”

“But you could die - that’s the complete _ opposite _ of surviving.”

“And?” Steve replied, flicking the spent smoke into the ashtray, “Any minute spent doing what needs to be done is a minute you’re not dying. Besides, if they can convince you that you’re winning from the get go, you’re gonna do all those things gladly.” He sighed, laying his head on the back of the sofa.

That made sense, but still... the Mindflayer could brainwash them, he supposed, but… Fuck it all.

Billy groaned loudly - there were too many analogies being thrown around and the conversation had grown tiring. Steve was drunk and Billy was close to joining him - this was not the time for over analysing details that probably meant nothing.

“I’m gonna be frank, not sure how much more of this I can take tonight.” He said finally, relieved as Harrington nodded in agreeance.

“Me neither, it’s all bullshit anyway but seriously, we’re not safe. Whatever this is, it’s bigger than before. I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on and honestly, I don’t want to get involved… not again… but we can’t be stupid. We have to lay low for a while.”

“Ha, yeah sure, just quit our jobs and go into hiding, right? The chances that they’ll find us are next to none - even with CCTV, it’s not like they’re gonna know who we are. Hawkins isn’t that small, Steve.” Billy watched his guest who’d begun to tap his feet, “What?” he asked, suspiciously.

The man squirmed, “Uh, they have your name.”

“They do? _ How?!”  _ He barked in alarm.

Steve raised a hand in confusion before scratching his head, “Do you not -? Shit, okay, y’know when you had the gun against that ass with the orange tie? Well, I was trying to snap you out of it. You weren’t thinking straight, just laying into him when we coulda been running.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You were waving that fucking gun around, asshole! The guy was goading you to shoot him and you were… fuck I dunno, I can’t describe it. Y’saw everyone as a threat, including me. You couldn’t be reasoned with, could’ve gotten us all killed and... if you’d shot him? Fuck, look, I’m sorry but I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

Scared again, Hargrove reached for the bottle, getting his next shot ready as gradually, he recalled the electric feeling of the gun in his hands. Languidly, he ran his tongue over his lips and spasmed.   
  


 

* * *

 

On edge, Steve studied Billy closely, noticing the man’s agitation. Pull him back  - y’gotta pull him back. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m pretty sure my name’s been said too - you’re not alone. Hey - dickhead - you there?”

“Some of us actually have to work, Harrington.” 

“I know, I wasn’t talking about -”

“I can’t miss work, I have shit I need to do.”

Steve’s pulse quickened as he detected the man’s tone, “hey - listen, no one’s saying you can’t go to work, just that we -”

“I can’t… I have to leave - have to be able to leave. Staying indoors isn’t good for me.”

“I get that, I do,” He began, blinking through the drunk fog blocking his compassion, “You just can’t be stupid. It’s not like you work in the middle of town or whatever, that’s a long walk back, I dunno - could you -”

“Could I what? I ain’t changing shit Harrington - not because of your mistake. If they find me, they find me, I’m not staying locked away, not gonna fucking… stay here. Nothing changes.” 

“Whatever, at least get rid of the gun.”

Billy froze.  “No.”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “What d’you mean, no?” 

“I mean no, I’m not getting rid of the gun.”

“Y’can’t keep it,” Steve responded, burying the venom he could feel readying itself, “Do you get that, idiot? You can’t keep it.”

Billy’s eyes locked onto him, voice sharpened by his defence, “Why not? I fucking found it.”

“So?!” Steve exclaimed, dumbfounded, “It’s not a prize - you don’t -  _ Jesus. _ It’s not some fucking trophy-”

“Hasn’t it occurred  t’you that maybe a gun is precisely the kinda thing we need to have around, considering the shit we’ve just run away from?”

“That’s not the - look, genius, if y’need a gun that bad, go out there and fucking buy one - get an automatic for all I care, just not  _ that one.”  _

Turning to face the weapon, Billy’s expression shifted from anguish to uncertainty, “What’s gotten into you? What’s wrong with this one?”

“What’s gotten into -” Steve began, knotting his hands in his hair before slamming them down at his sides,  _ “How thick are you?!” _

Hargove’s brow darkened, “The  _ fuck  _ did you just say to me?”

This was fucking madness,  _ again with the forgetting thing, I can’t…  _

“I said, how thick are you?! That gun - that fucking gun right there…  _ you shot a cop, asshole!” _

“Bullshit.” Billy snorted.

No fucking way. He couldn’t have just -  

“You kidding me right now?  _ Jesus fucking…  _ You shot a cop in the shitting arm with that gun! I  _ saw  _ you do it.” Billy’s chest was rising and falling now, face twisting with confusion but Steve was beyond giving a damn. “What the  _ hell’s wrong with your memory?!  _ D’you just… only remember what y’want to or something? How do you  _ forget shooting someone _ ?! How d’you forget almost killing me at school? Oh, whilst we’re at it, how d’you magically know all there is to know about the pissing psych ward and at the same time…  _ My god _ ! Help me out, Hargrove, because I have  _ no fucking idea what’s going on with you!”  _

In a singular, forceful movement, the man across from him stood, reaching to snatch the weapon from the side before clutching it to his chest. Steve swore, now also on his feet as the room teetered around him - suspense and rage holding him upright as Billy snarled. 

“I DON’T KNOW!  _ I don’t fucking know what’s wrong with me! _ I don’t… I  _ don’t know!-”   _ He seethed, hammering the barrel into his ribcage, “But I  _ need _ this gun, I... fucking remember what it did - what it did to  _ you…  _ I remember you almost shitting yourself when I held this gun.” His eyes glazed and he stepped towards Steve who straightened his back in defiance, “I remember the fucking tears in your eyes as you backed away from me, yeah - bet that fucking killed you… All that because of this gun.”

Steve was done with the show now. Screw the eggshells he’d been walking on all day - he was gonna crush them into Hargroves shitty, cheap carpet. 

“And what’s the point of this, huh?” He snapped, gesturing to Billy furiously, “Tryin’ to scare me  _ more?  _ Is that it? Cunt!” He laughed and wiped his nose before pointing to himself, “In case you hadn’t already noticed, I’m terrified enough as it is! Fuck - I don’t know if I’m ever gonna be able to sleep again! Will I make it to Thanksgiving? Will I ever see my useless parents again?  _ Who fucking knows?! _ I sure as hell don’t! I don’t know anything anymore, because as of this fucking moment Billy - because of my foolish attempt to get drinks with you, to be normal with you for just _ one evening… _ There’s gonna be a hit on my head.” 

Steve looked at the ceiling, closing his eyes tightly - those disgusting tears Billy had referenced corroding his disguise as he faced him again. “What we know, you and I, is a  _ death sentence!  _ So yeah, dickhead, do tell me how this shitshow is supposed to scare me when I could - oh, I dunno, bully and push you into blowing my brains out!” 

Almost falling over the sofa, he steadied himself and threw his hands in the air as he powered on, unable to reel back his attack, “I mean, it was so fucking easy last time, wasn’t it? - the guy barely had t’say a thing and you were ready, so let’s put that to the test, shall we? Do it, hardass - put that fucking gun to my head and do it - at least that way, I’ll be rid of the choking suspense that comes with just _ waiting  _ to die!”

He grabbed the barrel of the gun, forcing it to his direction, still laughing, “Fucking waving that gun around - you wanna kill me?  _ Then fucking kill me because I really couldn’t give a shit anymore!  _ Y’gonna add some weight to that threat of yours? Didn’t think so because that was  _ hollow _ \- a pathetic attempt to freak me out. Fuck. You.”

Steve rolled away, pointing to the door, “But those guys - y’know, the ones trawlin’ through CCTV footage and phone books? Running our fucking names and addresses… They’re not acting, Billy, and y’know what else? They have police on their side -  _ police _ ! Y’know what that means? Whatever they do to us, they can do ‘above board’ - they can  _ arrest you if they link that gun to you!  _ Fingerprints, serial numbers… No jury would hear you out! Do you understand? That’s what I’m trying to  _ prevent!  _ Those cops? They could blow you away with no explanation if they find that gun on you. All they’d need to do is say you pulled it on ‘em and  _ no one  _ will care because  _ you _ had the gun and you shot a  _ fucking cop with it!” _

 

* * *

 

 

“Will you  _ SHUT THE FUCK UP!  _ Jesus!” Billy finally shouted, holding the gun at his side as he rubbed his temples, the migraines tearing his head apart. “Quit fucking looking at me like I’m the only one that went too far! You literally  _ tortured a man!”  _ He yelled, noticing how Steve had to hold onto the table as he stole the vodka bottle, taking the cap off and dropping it at his feet. “Somehow, you saw what was going on and drew from that twisted fucking brain of yours…  _ that!  _ You, motherfucker, drove a man with seemingly NO soul to screaming, grovelling tears with  _ nothing but a damned pen!!!”  _

Steve closed his eyes, knocking his head back before swallowing straight from the bottle. 

“Layin’ into me _ … HYPOCRITE!  _ You  _ ripped the fuckers nails out!  _ You broke his wrist Steve, you forced those fingers back and without flinching _ ,  _ you pried his nails off! Even when he was tryin’ to knock himself out on the tiles, you kept going.” Now it was Billy’s turn to laugh, staring Steve down as he tried to drink his guilt away. “Bitchin’ to me about being unstable - I’m not the only broken person here, Harrington, not by a fucking mile.”

Billy leaned forward and snatched the bottle from his aggressor, taking three large mouthfuls before coughing and wiping his mouth. “Shooting a person is normal. Hitting them, stabbing them, even  _ killing them _ is normal! What you did though - that, Steve, was _ fucking sadistic _ . That’s  _ not _ normal. That evil came from somewhere and guess what?” He said, throwing the gun on the sofa and standing face to face with his guest who struggled to remain steady on his feet. “That’s  _ all _ you.” Billy whispered, his eyes level with Steve’s as he pressed a finger condemningly against the man’s chest, just above his heart. 

The man straightened, laughing into the hands cupped over his mouth, “Oh yeah?” He pulled them away, gesturing to Billy as he readied his verbal blade, “At least I’m not so fucking  _ sick _ that someone called me out on it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Billy stared at him in stunned silence. As soon as the poison left his lips, Steve regretted it. He knew he’d gone too far but Hargrove had a way of provoking him into extreme reactions he had almost no control over. Even with his growing remorse, pride kept his mouth shut - preventing any reconciliation, so he stood there, watching as the man breathed deeply through his nose. 

To his surprise, there was no aggression - no fists or screaming outbursts. Instead, Billy opened his mouth to speak before closing it again, lowering the bottle to the table carefully. He raised a hand to Steve, holding it in the air for a moment and turned his back on him, retreating to his bedroom.

As the door slammed behind him, Steve exhaled loudly and swore, kicking the table leg. He  _ always _ went too far and the guilt cut into him, pulling his hand back to the bottle. It wasn’t like Billy had been deliberately forgetting, but the man had threatened him and Steve was a bastard when backed into a corner.

He had no idea what to do. He looked to the door sadly and considered whether it would be best if he just left. Billy clearly couldn’t bear looking at him anymore and even though the man had thrown grenades of his own, Steve knew he had no right to call him sick. Especially not after what he’d unwittingly revealed at the hospital. 

Fucking  _ idiot Steve! _

Moving towards the exit, he halted. “Shit.” He cursed before sneaking to Billy’s bedroom door, breathing slowly as he held the bottle to his lips. Steve was very drunk now - no doubt about that, but he had to check on him. Had to make sure the he was okay.

Despite all Billy’s instability - the hotheadedness, destructiveness and blatant disregard for his well being… the man had saved Steve’s life. He’d fought alongside him, taken a bullet for him - hell, he’d even opened up his home and fed him. All Steve’d done in return was drag back the past to punish him for things he seemingly couldn’t help. 

_ What did you do? _

He thought long and hard, and unable to take it any longer, Steve reached for the handle before pausing, the bottle frozen to his mouth as he pressed his ear against the door

 

* * *

 

 

Mind reeling, Billy felt broken beyond repair. He stood in his room for a minute, staring vacantly into space then crouched low - gripping his ears as he screamed silently. He knew something was wrong with him - he’d been broken for as long as he could remember, he just didn’t know why. If it wasn’t for his appearance, he’d be a freak - passing as ‘normal’ was the only thing protecting him and yet he couldn’t even do that anymore.

He twisted, trying to stand but dropped to his knees again, the reopened bullet wound screaming at him for attention. He closed his mouth tightly, holding it shut as he bit back a loud, desperate cry before moving to sink his teeth into his wrist, shuddering as the arousal returned. 

Steve mustn’t see him like this - he couldn’t see what Billy really was. No one could. Yet despite his attempts to stabilise and return to normality, the burning in his thighs had returned and with it the voice.

_ “Hush now, being insane isn’t  _ _ that _ _ bad.”  _ His persecutor whispered, draping themselves over him like a fever blanket. 

“Yeah… right… Enlighten me?” Billy snarled to himself, hunched over. 

_ “One: Madness has this delicious edge to it - you can build a very pleasant home within it if you try hard enough. Kinda alluring. And two: any normal person would be breaking right now-”  _

“How is this not-” He began, but his demon paid no attention, rubbing his shoulders as they continued.

_ “Any normal person would be screaming and crying but… look at you…” _

Billy inhaled sharply, falling backwards as he felt the icy chill course through his abdomen, stimulating him.

_ “You’re magnificent… together we can turn all that agony, all that  _ _ fear _ _ into something… sensational.” _

Propping himself up by his elbows, he looked up at the shimmering version of himself now straddling him. On the floor of his dimly lit room, Billy stared into nothingness, shaking and alone.

_ “This feels good, right?”  _ The demon asked as they pressed against him.  _ “What about now?”  _ They continued, pinching his bleeding injury until Billy yelped.  _ “Better, right?” _

“NO!”

His shade chuckled melodically,  _ “Y’sure, B?” _

“Fuck you! I’m not you - you’re not even  _ real!  _ I’m making you up-”

_ “Y’wanna test that theory again?”  _ The persecutor asked, tracing their claw over the burns on his shoulder.  _ “Didn’t go so well last time, did it?” _

“But I - I’m not -  _ I don’t want this!” _

Powerless to defend himself against his fracture, they lowered Billy to the floor where he remained pinned by the invisible force. Lightheaded he tried to turn away from their glistening cyan eyes.

_ “You’re lying B - you can’t lie, not here. Not with me. I am you, sweetheart, and you  _ _ always _ _ want this - It’s who you are.  I don’t understand why you fight it-” _

“Because it’s  _ wrong! It’s INSANE! I’m fucking insane!”  _ Billy snapped back, sweating, still unable to move from the floor.

_ “So?” _

“What d’you mean  _ SO?!”  _

The shade gripped his jaw, forcing Billy to look into their eyes,  _ “Who cares if it’s wrong? Who fucking cares if we’re insane? Y’gotta accept it someday sweetness, and besides… it helps.” _

“No it -” he began before rolling his eyes back, spine twisting as the demon made direct contact with his erection, holding tight until he gasped loudly.

_ “What’s that?” _

“Stop - I -”

_ “Tell me about the pain, B?” _

“Fucking  _ stop!” _

_ “Tell me about the  _ _ pain _ _!” _

Teeth gritted with his eyes closed in self-hatred, Billy searched himself for the pain and noticed… an absence. He was in hell - dizzy and disoriented… but he couldn’t feel it. No pain from the cracked ribs, close to broken nose or laceration bleeding through his t-shirt… The pain was gone - no - the pain simply didn’t matter. 

_ “See? It works. Being insane works.” _

Defeated, Billy tried not to cry, his watering eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I don’t want to be this.”

The caustic hand on his jaw loosened its grip, moving to gently caress his cheek.  _ “Shh…”  _ they soothed and as the demon continued their manipulation of his desire, Billy let his head fall to the side, eyes fixed on the mountains of boxes under his bed.  _ “I know you don’t, but you are. It makes you beautiful B… All this madness, it makes us stronger.”  _ His chest ached. He was unfixable.  _ “Let me help? I can make it better - you know I can, I can make all this go away… you just have to let me.”  _ Billy closed his eyes again - restraints he never knew he had now weakening.  _ “Quiet now, I’ve got this-” _

“Hey, Billy? You okay? Uh, can I - look, I’m sorry, again, can I come in?”

Hargrove looked at his persecutor in alarm as their attention shot to the door Steve was standing behind. 

_ “See? You’ll get what you need, trust me.” _

“NO!”

“No?” Steve asked, dejected, “Y’want me to go? I can if you-”

“No, don’t go - sorry, fuck uh - one moment.” 

Panicking, he scrambled to his feet, the pressure on his chest and lungs lifting. 

“Shall I just… Just come in or?”

Frantically adjusting his trousers, Billy flinched - turning to stare at the door as he heard Harrington swear and crash against it.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve was doing his best to not make a sound as he tried to understand what the hell he was hearing. He could barely hear anything, just snippets here and there, and… distress. 

Arguing with yourself was normal - well, Steve did it all the time, yet what was going on in the other room was different. When Steve yelled at himself, it was almost always an explosion - calling himself useless, weak or pathetic. Sometimes, he’d bicker to himself and obsess outloud, kinda like a sounding board for life choices, but he was never  _ scared _ of the argument. It was just a way for him to calm down and process things, at times it helped him feel safe.   
Whatever Hargrove was doing was  _ not  _ like that at all. It felt real.  
Then came the gasp. 

Drunk legs almost collapsing, he blushed and swallowed from the bottle. Steve screwed his face up - he  _ knew  _ that sound, that’s… that’s his -  _ that _ sound. Was he? Was Billy-? No… He wouldn’t have just- Naaaah. Pure coincidence, he thought to himself as he bravely resumed his spying, stomach knotting in suspense. 

_ “I don’t want to be this.” _

Fuck. Steve’s heart ached. He’d felt that toxic sentiment most of his adult life but somehow, hearing it come from Billy… Shitting hell, Steve - Why’d you have to be such a cunt all the time?! 

A part of him wanted to bust that door down and just… make it better - tell Billy he wasn’t sick and that it was just Steve being an asshole - however even with the alcohol flooding his system, Harrington wasn’t that chivalrous. He couldn’t stay silent though, not after what he’d heard. 

He cleared his throat.   
  


Hargroves replies were blunt and about as muddled as Steve’s which left him feeling bizarrely impatient. He’d already been enough of a dick this evening, he wasn’t gonna fuck it up now by -

The elbow that’d been propping his tired body against the door slipped suddenly and Steve fell, flailing like an ass to try and catch the vodka bottle. “SHIT! FUCKIN’-  _ JESUS!” _ He yelled as he crashed into Billy’s room. By some miracle, he’d managed to right himself but he didn’t have a chance to congratulate himself because he stumbled again, fumbling for the bottle before standing straight to attention. Bright red with embarrassment, Steve looked up to see Billy - eyes watering with cheeks flushed as he stared at Harrington in surprise.

“Sorry - I’m uh - that wasn’t supposed to -  _ shit _ .” Steve tried, looking around the room to avoid Billy’s gaze. Oh wow, was this his bedroom?

“Y’okay?”

“Hmm?” He said, already distracted, “Uh, I guess - my stupid fucking legs just won’t do what they’re told, and I-”

Billy smiled and laughed quietly, “Maybe y’should sit down, douchebag.”

Steve wondered for a minute if that was meant harshly but the man’s tone was… different - softer than before... He liked it, liked the - the -  _ fuck _ , he couldn’t place it, there was something about the flourish in his voice. Slumping onto the bed, he raised his eyebrows in approval. 

“Better?” Hargrove asked, his back to Steve as he rummaged through a drawer at the back of the room. 

“Yeah, man - I like the mattress-”

Billy snorted, “What? Why?”

“It’s got this spring to it - but not a crap, noisy one, have you got a topper on it? SHIT! You have!” Steve beamed, watching as his host pulled out an old cigarette from a small wooden box.

“Y’enjoying yourself there, Steve?”

Blushing angrily at himself, he halted his inspection of the bed - don’t bounce - don’t you  _ dare _ bounce.  “Sorry, I just - I really like nice things. It’s a good bed, that’s all I’m sayin’.”

“Glad you like it.”

Through bleary eyes, Steve squinted at Billy. The man seemed to be uncomfortable and at first, he wondered whether this was his fault… But then he noticed the blood. “You’re bleeding again - Billy, shit, do you-”

“Calm down, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, asshole, it’s been hours - I told you drink thins the blood - I said-”

“Will you chill out?” Billy said, firmer this time. 

Steve was puzzled - this was not the guy he’d heard through the door a moment ago. Hargrove was unusually… okay. Either that was the recovery of the century or Steve’d just imagined it - which, let’s face it, was most likely given his current state, even so…  
He staggered to his feet and without thinking, crouched to look at the blood pooling through Billy’s shirt.

“Steve - what’re you -”

“D’you not feel that? That’s-” He began, peeling away the lower half of the man's’ top to expose the wound, its dressing falling on the floor, “JESUS! That needs stitches, fucking hell, do you-” Concerned, Steve shot his eyes up at Billy who was now folding his arms, an eyebrow raised. “Sorry - fuck-” He said, pulling himself away as Hargrove picked up the dressing, slinging it into the trash, “Sorry - look, that’s what I came ‘n here to say-”

“Sit down, Steve.”

“Wait - I shouldn’t have said what I said-”

Billy leaned forward and confiscated the bottle, “Sit - before you injure yourself.”

He tried to sit but instead flopped back onto the bed, staring at Billy’s ceiling, dazed. “I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t mean it-”

“Sure, whatever.”

Steve twisted his face up, “No, I’m serious, it’s - when I’m scared I just snap - I’m a - I’m a dickhead when I’m scared, man.”

 

* * *

 

 

Billy sighed. It was hard to stay bitter at the drunk idiot sprawled over his bed. He was still hurting and yet, he couldn’t help but smile at the dramatic arm gestures Steve was using in his attempt to apologise.  
“We’re all jackasses when afraid - let it go.” He replied, watching Steve for a bit longer before biting his lip and turning back to the little wooden box he’d found the ancient smoke in. Something glinted from inside its depths and Billy reached behind him to turn the light on. He chuckled at his guest protesting the brightness and moved an old birthday card out of the way. 

His laughter stopped. Wrapped around a broken switchblade lay a lavender ribbon, organza possibly, edged in glitter. What the  _ fuck?  _ Disoriented, he pulled it out slowly, letting the knife fall to the floor as the fabric unfolded. This… this wasn’t his. The knife was for sure, but the delicate, flowing ribbon couldn’t be. Just looking at it made him feel desperately uneasy yet he couldn’t take his eyes off of it, hypnotised by the way it twisted in front of him.

“That’s a nice colour, I like that colour. That’s what this room needs - y’need colour - it’s kinda dead in here, dude.”  Billy flinched as he heard Steve’s voice, shoving the foreign object protectively back into its box before slamming the lid.  “In  _ fact,  _ y’could easily brighten the place up with some curtains, get rid of those… shitty blinds, and buy some proper curtains _.  _ First you’d need a colour scheme, otherwise you’ll just be stabbing around in the dark.  _ Fuck, _ y’know what y’feel like? You feel like a… a warm-woodland-at-dusk kinda guy.”

“Oh yeah?” Hargrove said, stifling a snigger as he lowered himself onto the bed, trying to keep his attention on Steve and not on his most recent discovery. 

“Yeah - like, it’s all greys ‘n charcoals in here but you - you’re not. You’re not a  _ grey _ , y’know?” Billy moved his gaze to Harrington. Despite how puzzled he was by the meandering conversation, he felt touched. “You’re a dusky woodland in autumn - not this one, this one’s fucking bullshit - but like, old autumns. Y’kinda got this toasty pine turnin’ blue in the shadows thing going on - maybe some cold green and… shit!… YES!” Raising his eyebrows, Billy inched back as Steve sat up sharply, “Gold! - Orange and gold to cut through all of that… other stuff.”

“Gold?”

“Yeah, but for the gold we need - we need, uh, that light purple - like your ribbon, what’s it called… lilac? Mauve?”

“Lavender.” Billy replied, without thinking.

“Fuck yeah! Lavender!” Steve exclaimed, triumphantly hitting Hargrove on the arm, “T’balance the brilliant gold of that sunset poking through the trees. You’re all those colours - I’m telling you - y’should do your apartment like that.”

Blushing, Billy hoped it wasn’t just the alcohol moving Steve’s lips. No one had said anything like that to him before and as he tried to picture the scene, he felt his demon get comfortable between his legs - resting their head on his crotch, watching their guest, mesmerised. 

“Where’d you put the lavender, Steve? In this room - where’d you put that accent colour?” 

Billy’s eyes widened suddenly and he rushed to cup his mouth. Why the fuck did I say that? He stared below him at the shade who was now fully focused on Harrington, their hips swaying behind them. 

Steve looked around, biting his knuckles deep in thought, “It has to be noticeable but not…  _ too _ noticeable, like - a secret that once you see, cannot be unseen.”

“Uhuh, go on-”

Alarmed, Hargrove tried to stay calm. He had no idea what was going on - this was new. 

“So, I’d say - uh, any decoration, like a plant… Or things with lavender frames - lampshades, throws, that kinda thing. The stuff that makes it -”

I can’t - I have to -  
“I’ve gotta... go, be right back.”  
  


Barging his way into the bathroom, Billy looked around him frantically. He felt like he was being taken over. The more actively engaged his persecutor was becoming, the less he could see them seperately, as if the two of them were morphing into one. He rushed to the mirror again, fixating on his eyes only to notice that his reflection was more distorted than before… It was almost like… like he was watching himself look in the -  
No. Not  _ like _ , he was. 

Horrified, Billy watched his body start to preen themselves in the mirror, fingers running through his hair before  twisting it and laying it over one shoulder. What the fuck am I doing?!

“Getting presentable. Y’can’t just walk in there like a tramp. Y’gotta make a proper effort if you want him to notice you.” 

That’s my voice - that came out of  _ my mouth!  _ I don’t want him to notice me - not now!

“That’s bullshit.” His body replied and Billy recoiled as he saw his demon look at him through the mirror, unimpressed. “You  _ always _ want him to notice you. Always. I’m just gonna ensure he does - properly.” The creature arched Billy’s neck and started scoping the bathroom cabinets for a body spray. “You need better shit than this B, I mean, come on.”

What’s going on - why… why do I feel...

“Good? Because that’s what I do. I make it feel good.” 

What am I talking about? I have to get control - this is  _ crazy _ … Hands, move your fucking hands…  
They dropped the spray. 

His creature smirked, ignoring Hargrove’s rebellion. “Give it up. Let me do my thing. You’ll thank me later.”

He was flickering in and out of himself now, able to feel some of his limbs but not all. He kept fighting - the tug of war rendering him virtually blind until suddenly… Excruciating pain.  
Billy swore and doubled back from the mirror, teeth bared as he clutched the bullet wound. 

“Y’like that?”

All across his body, bombs were going off. Injuries he’d never noticed before flaring up in an instant and joining  _ terror.  _

“This isn’t even the half of it, honey.”

And then came the sadness - so much of it, he couldn’t even establish a source.  
_ Make it stop! _

His demon grinned at him through the mirror, guiding his hand into his pants once again. “Already on it.” They replied, working his semi until he gripped the sink with his spare hand.  Satisfied that their captive would remain restrained by need, the Other stopped playing, clicking their neck to the side. “Enjoy it, B, I know what you’re thinking, remember? Relax - You want him, you’ll get him.”

Powerless, Billy watched as his body strode out of the bathroom. Grabbing an ashtray and Steve’s menthol's, they returned to the bedroom, pausing in the doorway to watch the man investigating his room. 

 

* * *

  
  
Steve felt like he was floating a little. The world was starting to seem very surreal as he explored Billy’s possessions. Everywhere he looked there were boxes of all shapes and sizes, and inside them… junk. In the living area there was order - his stuff seemed to have a place and things appeared to make sense, but in here… aside from the left corner by the window, there were no rules. It was like the guy had moved in, unpacked half the house and given up, but why was he keeping this stuff? In one box, there was just a collection of holiday cards and bills, in another, broken CD cases and partially unwrapped gifts. It didn’t make sense.

The man was behaving oddly again but Steve couldn’t care at this point. It seemed to him that the entire world had just fallen off its axis. Even his fear of imminent death had become comforting because at least it cemented his reality. Or maybe it was  _ this _ space that calmed him down. Amidst all of Billy’s clutter, Steve felt comfy. What he would give to just spend a day sorting out these boxes…

There was a cough from the other side of the room and Steve jumped, dropping the tin he was nosing through. Adjusting himself, he scratched his head, looking to the side as the man handed him his cigarettes.  _ Damn _ . Billy knew what Steve needed before he did. 

“Sorry, had to get some water.” Hargrove said casually before turning from Steve to roll over the bed and open the window. That  _ had  _ to hurt - there was no way Billy could’ve moved like that without being in agony. He’d seen where the bullet had caught him, that thing wasn’t closed at all, and yet here the man was, now lying on his front - smoking a cigarette like he wasn’t bleeding onto the bed. 

Steve inhaled deeply as the crisp, fresh night air filled the room and he caught on the breeze that… cheap body spray he loved. Combined with the smell of smoke, Billy’s bedroom was starting to have the same effect as the towel, relaxing his shoulders and slowing his heart rate. 

“Y’can sit down y’know - you’ll fall over again if you stay standing.”

Shrugging, Steve sat on the bed next to his host before lighting his own cigarette. He reclined gradually, eyes closed as he drew in deep. “How does lying like that not hurt?” He asked eventually, his curiosity making it very hard to sit in silence. “I don’t understand, d’you not feel it? Because that should be causin’ you _hell_ right now.”

The man laughed darkly, “Ha, oh I feel it, I guess I just switch off to it after a while.”

Steve frowned, tilting his head to study Billy carefully. “People don’t work like that - bodies don’t work like that.”

“Well, mine does - always has done.” He replied, smiling into the smoke, “The pain just… turns into something else and goes away.”

Harrington thought hard. He couldn’t tell if he was deeply disturbed or morbidly fascinated by the man lying next to him. Possibly a bit of both. Steve had so many questions that on any other day would be inappropriate but given that it was essentially the end of the world, he dismissed his censor. “Y’said before - ‘nd stop me if this is… shitty or weird - y’said that it felt good being hurt. That you enjoyed it… Does  _ that _ pain feel good?” He enquired, pointing to the man’s side.

Steve watched Billy’s facial expressions anxiously and held his breath as Hargrove moved to lean on the injured side, pressing it onto the bed - hair tumbling over his shoulder exposing his neck. Jesus Christ. The idiot was forcing himself into  _ more  _ agony yet his face… He hurriedly looked away, avoiding the devious look in Billy’s eyes.

“It does now.”

Oh fuck. Steve’s pulse quickened as he continued his questioning, “So, it grows? The good feeling, I mean.”

“I guess. Depends on the scenario and level of pain - I dunno. It’s kinda like an override. Pain first, then shock and… waves.”

“But the pain is still present, right?”

“It’s complicated - as I said, it gets turned into something else or… is caged away.”   
Steve bit his lip. Something in how the man talked about being hurt left him with pangs of empathy, a small sadness in his gut, and yet he couldn’t take his eyes away from the blood seeping through Billy’s shirt. The sultry sight of Hargrove smoking as if nothing was wrong gave him a rush. He’d never seen anything like it.   
“How does it work for you then?”

Steve blinked, tearing his gaze from the injury and back to those feral blues, “Huh? What?”

“When you see pain in someone else, what happens?”

Coughing on his cigarette, Steve looked away sharply, blushing. He’d never really thought of it - he usually felt so guilty for his ‘reactions’ that he did his best to ignore them. But in his drunk state, he found himself wanting to appease Billy’s curiosity, if only to see how he’d react. “Uh, well, I just - fuck okay, well-”

“Let me help. Look at me.” Chest pounding, knees weak, Steve returned his attention to Hargrove, inhaling sharply as he watched Billy apply more pressure to the injury. Jesus  _ fucking Christ. _ “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

“Well, uh -” He began, clearing his throat anxiously, “I can see you’re in pain. Like, the pain is present. Even if you’re not responding how… how most would, the pain is there.”

“How d’you know?”

Steve felt his breathing grow heavier as he answered, “You flinched when you moved earlier. Lowered yourself to sit down, holding the side of the chair as you did. You favour the uninjured side and I could hear you trying to not… make a sound. Heard you trying not to yell in the kitchen, heard the cursing, saw the tears you keep tryin’ to hide.” His lower body warmed as he recalled the signs, “Even now - I dunno, I can see the pain. Y’may be ‘transforming’ it, but I can still see it.”

Billy continued to watch him and Steve’s cheeks reddened, mouth dry as the man spoke, “So, how does that make you feel?”

Fuck my life, he thought as he reached beside him to grab the vodka bottle, swallowing desperately. This was humiliating - he was a  _ monster  _ \- even talking about it felt…  _ Jesus… _ “It’s weird - I feel… bad that you’re hurting but… like you said, there’s this override. An override then I’m drawn to it, searching’ for evidence of it - any indicator that you’re hurting.”

Hargroves eyes narrowed, “Why?”

“Because -  _ fuck,  _ uh -”

“Spit it out.”

“It feels really fucking good, okay?” Steve snapped, staring into the bottle, “I don’t control it, it just - it just happens. Even if… even if it’s not physical pain, like when you’re crying or whatever… I dunno, I know it sounds fucked up, but it’s just, when you’re hurting in any way, I - It’s beautiful… like, the best thing I’ve ever seen.” Steve instantly regretted his confession, noticing the way Billy’s lips twisted into a feline grin, the man’s tongue gliding along his teeth.

“Beautiful, eh?”

“No - yes - I can’t,  _ fuck,  _ I can’t describe it. It’s like the emergency cigarette you keep lyin’ ‘round just incase y’make the stupid mistake t’ quit. The pull to it is… ‘nd you just... just...” He trailed off, unable to focus as Billy sat up and took his shirt off, revealing the scars and bruises decorating his torso. Oh  _ fuck _ .

“Just what?”

“Just… y’can’t stop thinking ‘bout it.” He mumbled, frozen in place and furious at himself as he noticed his growing arousal. Unable to stop himself, Steve stared at Billy’s body - lips parting as the man leant back. He was going to hell. Definitely going to hell. 

“Go on.”

“Huh?”

“What happens next?”

“What d’you mean?”

“What happens now you can’t stop thinking ‘bout it?”

Steve squirmed, “well you - y’just… the obsession kinda builds until…”

“Until?”

“Y’smoke the fucking cigarette again. It’s the only way y’can stop thinking about it. You have to… see it, feel it-”

“Taste it?” Billy enquired, huskily, “So really, what you’re saying here, Steve, is that it’s a drug.”

Hargrove locked eyes on Steve’s, leaving him trapped. “I guess?”

“Good.”

“Good?!” He exclaimed, dumbfounded, “How’s any of this  _ good?” _

“Means we’re both in the same boat.”

Steve bit his knuckles in despair, “But it’s fucking  _ wrong _ , man. I shouldn’t feel this way about people in pain - about  _ you _ in pain.”

Billy sat up, leaning in close as he reclaimed the vodka, making Steve tense at the proximity. “There’s  _ always _ a reason for using, Steve.” He murmured knowingly before finishing the bottle and slinging it into the corner. “Every addiction has a function.”

“But - it makes no sense, I don’t understand why-”

“D’you need to understand?”

“No, but -” He watched Billy’s chest rise and fall as the man wiped the residual drops from his chin. “It’s fucking bad.”

Hargrove shrugged. “Screw morality. Nobody else seems to take it seriously.”

“I’m not a nice person, Billy.” Steve said, lightheaded. 

“Neither am I.” His host replied before moving a strong hand to Harrington’s jaw, tilting it so Steve couldn’t look away, “If we were nice people, we’d be dead by now.”

He swallowed, “But -”

“No buts - We’d be dead many times over. Being ‘nice’ does nothing but allow people t’walk all over you.” Billy interrupted, stroking a thumb gently across Harrington’s chin, “Your defences, Steve - they’re there for a reason… Besides…” The man whispered, his lips only an inch from Steve’s own, _ “I adore your defences.”  
_ And with that, Billy kissed him.

 

* * *

 

 

Things were happening fast and out of his control - the words expertly luring his guest into the kiss scared him and whilst there was truth behind them, they weren’t his. He felt everything though - could feel the sensation of Steve’s lips against his, the light grazing of the man’s stubble against his cheek and that… oh so wonderful, nicotine taste…  
Billy panicked and tried to pull away, suddenly appalled at himself. Shit - no, he’s drunk, I can’t - what the fuck am I doing?

_ “Calm down. Look - he’s enjoying it.”  _ He heard his shade whisper as Steve leaned into the kiss, halting his escape. To his surprise, Billy felt Harrington’s tongue trace against his lips and he surrendered his guilt, opening his mouth slightly so the man could get closer.  
What the _ -? _

Disoriented, he felt his body adjust of its own accord, separating him from the kiss as his demon lowered their lips just below the man’s jaw, drawing from Harrington a restrained, almost inaudible gasp. Steve faltered - the arm holding him up shaking but Billy’s Other was already responding, lowering their guest slowly onto the bed.  
This was a threesome now - an impossible one, a  _ fucked up  _ one, but a threesome nonetheless, and the man whose arms Billy was stroking hadn’t a goddamn clue.

With a will of their own, his shade wrapped their hands around Steve’s wrists and held him down. There was no struggle and as they bit his neck, Harrington’s body responded perfectly. 

_ “Touch his chest, I know you’ve been dying to - do it now.” _

Regaining control of himself, Billy did as he was told, tentatively placing his hand on Steve’s abdomen. The man twitched as his warm fingers made contact with the cool skin just above his waist and with baited breath, Billy moved them upwards in a firm caress. Feeling his excitement grow, his demon swept their hand over their guest, a thumb stroking Steve’s nipple gently. 

Neck tilted to the side, Steve closed his eyes and unable to resist, Billy bit him again, feeling himself harden as he drew from him another one of those… sublime little sounds. Now it was Hargrove’s turn to tense - inhaling sharply as he felt Harrington’s cold hand run down his back before landing on his injured side, hovering over the exposed bullet wound. 

Pulling his hands away sharply, Steve looked to Billy as he flinched, “I - sorry -” He stuttered breathlessly, but Hargrove’s demon was unphased.

“Don’t be.” They replied, leaning back to watch Harrington blush. “You don’t have to stop.”

“But-” Steve began, looking up at them flustered and confused before he was silenced again by Billy’s lips. Straddling him now, Hargrove braced himself as the creature he shared his body with took Steve’s hand, guiding it back to his injury before pressing down firmly. 

 

* * *

  
  
Pinned to the bed, Steve felt hot and cold simultaneously - blood rushing to his head as he made contact with the bullet wound.

He knew how much this must be hurting him - knew the salt in his sweat would be burning any broken flesh… knew the pressure would be making the man feel sick… yet as he kissed him, Steve could feel the rock-hard evidence of Hargrove’s enjoyment buried against him.  
And he could make it worse…

Waiting for his hosts breathing to steady, Steve pulled away from Billy and looked the man in the eye. They stared at each other for a moment, breathing shallow and catching the challenge spread across Hargrove’s features, Harrington smirked.

Shock rode Billy brutally as Steve closed his grip on the man’s injury, his palm fully pressed against the bloody area. Hypnotised, he watched Billy’s lips curl back as he hissed through the pain, his eyes closed tight. Then suddenly, they shot open revealing his dilated pupils and without a second thought, Steve seized the man’s neck and pulled him back into the kiss, denying him his desperate breath as he continued to hold Hargrove’s side securely.

Finally releasing him, the pair fell back from each other panting but Billy was incensed - forcing his knee between Steve’s legs harshly, spreading them apart. Rushing with his hips now angled upwards, Harrington gazed up at Hargrove in a daze.

Fear stripped away by the alcohol, he pushed himself against Billy before reaching a hand to touch the man’s torso. He wanted to feel the muscle beneath those bruises, something he’d been too scared and ashamed to do but now… nothing mattered, so as his fingertips finally made contact with Billy’s abdomen, Steve’s heart skipped a beat - oblivious to the crimson patterns his exploration was leaving on the man’s body.

 

* * *

 

Billy felt everything from the past few months slip into nothingness as he noticed the blood being traced across his chest. Shivering through the pain, he stared at his debasement, relishing the mindfuck as Steve drew a line past his naval straight to the rim of his pants where he hooked two fingers, pulling Billy to him.

Holding himself up by his elbows, Hargrove watched Harrington push himself against the leg he’d used to spread him, his glazed, brown eyes looking up at him feverishly. Lowering to brush lips softly across Steve’s, Billy winced as he was held in place - the demon denying both of the men the full kiss. 

Hargrove remained poised above his lover, restless and barely breathing as he looked down at the man trying to catch his lips again. He waited, restrained like a dog for his headmate to release him but they took their time, ensuring their captive and his prey had reached peak desperation until eventually, the shade whispered.

_ “Y’ready B? Ready to flip the world on its head? Make the bad good again? He’s there B, right where y’need him, trapped in hell with you. Y’ready? Good. Now go show him how divine hell can be.” _

Brainwashed, hungry and free of his restraints, Hargrove gladly obeyed.

 

* * *

 

 

Eyes closed in relief, Steve matched the intensity of Billy’s kiss, responding with full heat until the man seized his arms. Disoriented, he felt the universe spin as he was rolled over, now kneeling astride Billy who looked up at him, eyes burning like the white hot centre of a flame. 

Objectified and on display, Steve bit his lip before falling backwards as the man sat up where to his surprise, an arm was waiting to catch him. Swaying a little, he felt the warm tease of a hand slipping into his sweatpants, cupping his erection through the borrowed underwear.

As the man rubbed along his length, Steve gripped onto him… the entirety of his lower body tingling leaving him off balance but Billy wasn’t going to let him fall. He could feel Hargrove’s desire pressed into the base of him and, unable to hold his body upright, Steve rested his head on Billy’s shoulder as the man bypassed the last defence, still kissing him as their fingers curled around his dick.

 

* * *

 

 

The man was  _ ready _ \- he could tell by the way his body trembled against him but Billy didn’t want a release from him yet… He wanted to take Steve as far as he could, let the man dance around the edge for a bit until his iron guard collapsed around him, so with a thumb rolling just under the base of his lovers tip, Billy continued to work him and as he pressed his chest to Steve.

“Take it off.”

“Huh?” The man asked, bewildered.

“The shirt - take it off.”

Rushing to comply, Steve slipped out of his top and threw it behind him. Billy leaned back for a moment to take in the sight before pulling Steve to him again, feeling their bare bodies touching for the first time. Now it was Billy’s turn to struggle to contain himself as Harrington shifted on his lap. 

As Steve’s breathing grew shallow, Hargrove levelled his and picked up speed, his spare hand snaking to the back of the man’s neck - holding up Harrington’s head so he could see that pale neck clearly.

 

* * *

 

 

Caught in Billy’s grip, Steve bit his lip, fighting the waves of pleasure trying to work their way through him - the hand around his throat feeding his urgency. Shaking, he remained in place exactly where Hargrove held him until cruelly, Billy slowed right down. Unable to stop himself, Steve’s bucked his hips before whining in frustration as he tried to keep his ass from rubbing against his hosts erection. “Not now…” Billy chuckled, making Harrington’s cheeks burn with humiliation.

Panicked and overstimulated, he tried to escape his captor but the man gripped him tighter. “You’re not going anywhere.” he whispered threateningly and with a malicious laugh, Billy sped up again.

 

* * *

 

 

Precum dripping down his hand, Billy could feel Steve on the verge of a climax but he was good at this. The man wouldn’t cum until he permitted it. 

Pulling upwards, Hargrove allowed himself to cup the top of Harrington’s hard-on where he began to focus his attention. He watched as Steve gritted his teeth and tried to buck off of him but Billy’s grip on the man’s jaw was vice like, rendering his attempts to twist away hopeless. Biting back a gasp of his own, Billy tried to distract himself from the sensation of Steve struggling. It was here his demon came into their own, blocking his climbing arousal as moved together - working in partnership as Steve groaned loudly. 

Feeling the man’s pulse in both of his hands now, Billy smirked and in a move he knew Steve would hate him for, he whipped his hand away from his dick. Crying out angrily, Harrington raised his hand ready to lash out but Hargrove’s team were ready, pinning their guests arms to his sides as they lowered themselves to flick their tongue over Steve’s nipple - listening with wicked delight as Harrington fought to remain quiet.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve was desperate now - he wanted to cum, more than anything in the world, he wanted to cum but Hargrove denied him every damn time and as he felt the man’s teeth dig into his nipple, he yelled out again. 

Yanking his arms away as hard as he could, Steve threw them to his mouth, clutching it to prevent any more noise but Billy stole his silence by forcing them back to his sides. Red faced and trying to look away, Steve squirmed frantically as Hargrove thrust his hips upwards, pressing into his ass again as that silver-bell laugh chimed in his ears.

Staring out of the window, he tried to distract himself from his embarrassment but Billy wasn’t letting him have  _ anything _ today. With fingers clasped around his jaw again, his host pulled him back so their gaze was level. It was then Steve noticed the man’s blood across both of their torsos - the sight making his erection twitch at which point, Hargrove’s cunning grin widened.

“Look at me-”

Steve refused, locking his eyes on the lampshade above them.

“Look at me, Steve.”

“Fuck you.” He managed, determined to not give Billy anything else.

The man shook his head, “Suit yourself.” He replied before curling his hand back around Steve’s cock again.

 

* * *

 

 

Moving fast now, he felt Steve trying to push himself further into his hand, his face twisted with fury and hatred as his body urged him to finish the job but Hargrove kept pace - this was gonna  _ break  _ him. 

With all their attention on their prisoner, Billy and his shade drained the man’s sanity and control, fluctuating continually between the massage and speed, smiling as Harrington swore aggressively. 

“Y’gonna look at me yet?” They asked deviously and as rage shuddered through Steve’s body, Billy tightened his hold on the man’s erection, pulling down to the base painfully.

“ _ Fuck you! Fu - fuck you! I… I - ah -I can’t fucking…” _

“What was that?” he whispered before resuming his moderated teasing.

“You - you  _ fucking bastard! FUCK YOU!  _ I just…  _ fuck you!  _ Don’t - I can’t, I-”

Billy moved slower. 

“I - I have to -  _ it hurts!”  _

And then the real struggle began.

 

* * *

 

 

Unable to take another moment and disgusted at the urge to beg for his release, Steve fought against the hand restraining his arm before shoving Billy hard. The man hardly budged so desperately, he did the only thing he could think of. 

Reaching down to Hargroves waist, Steve seized the skin around his injury and held tight. Shouting loudly, Billy arched his back, closing his eyes tightly as the pain cornered him, but Steve wasn’t letting go and neither was Hargrove. 

“Just… just fucking…  _ let go of me!”  _ Steve shouted at the writhing beneath him in agony, breathing ragged. “You… fucking  _ asshole!!! Finish it! I can’t-”  _ he pleaded, his other hand gripping Hargrove by the neck hard - his thumb and forefinger digging into the man’s jugular. “ _ Don’t keep me here! - end it… I…”  _

Despite his begging, Billy continued his torture and as Steve felt more pre escape him, he considered a nuclear option that would bind him to the race.

 

* * *

 

 

Dizzyingly light headed and grunting through the pain, Billy stared up at Steve in disbelief as he felt the man’s hips push down against his erection. Faltering now, he swore as Harrington lowered his body over him, trapping his hand and in a move that stunned him, Steve slipped his own between them and clasped it around Hargrove's cock. 

Caught off guard, Billy looked around him in alarm, gripping the sheets as pleasure maddened him. He couldn’t stop though - Not now, not when his opponent was so close to meltdown. 

 

* * *

 

 

Furious at the lengths he was having to go to get Billy to give him what he wanted, Steve committed himself to driving his opponent into torment. Releasing his grip on the man’s throat, Harrington swung his arm around so the forearm pushed down on his neck, timing the application of pressure with his vigorous hand movements.

 

* * *

 

 

Choking, Hargrove fought his instinctual response to fight the man off, but as his demon reminded him - if he let go, Steve would win.

Pinned below Harrington, growing feint as bloodflow to his brain slowed, Billy snarled. This was it, the final sprint. If Steve wanted to cum so bad, he’d get his wish. 

 

* * *

 

 

Steve had never experienced competitiveness like this - the pair now hellbent on torturing the other at any cost. He just wanted to make Hargrove climax first.

Twisting his calves inwards, Harrington hooked his feet between the man’s legs, locking him into place so there was no way he could escape as he ramped up speed. 

 

* * *

 

 

Grunting and swearing up at Steve, Billy struggled against the man’s strong legs. Harrington was going to win… If he didn’t climax he would pass out…

_ “D’you trust me?” _

Gasping for breath, Billy nodded.

_ “I’m gonna do something that he is gonna loathe. You’re gonna feel like you’ll pass out but you’ll win, I promise you. Do you trust me?” _

Slave to his need, Hargrove surrendered his body to his teammate. 

_ “Focus only on staying conscious, keep us awake.” _

He moved.

 

* * *

 

 

Eyes closed tightly, Steve failed to notice Billy raise his hand to his mouth, nor did he notice the man lick his fingers and lower them to the side. 

“Shithead…” He heard Hargrove choke, drawing his attention back to the man who now looked defeated. “If you’re - If you’re gonna…  _ fuck,  _ I… Kiss me -” Steve watched confused as Billy bucked beneath him, “Shit! Now!  _ Kiss me now!” _

Triumphant in his victory, Harrington leaned in to kiss him, arm still on the man’s throat before pausing as he felt Billy’s left hand sweep behind him and slide into the back of his pants with ease.  Eyes widening in alarm, Steve tried to recoil from the kiss but the arm wrapped behind him kept him in place. All he could do was stare at his opponent in horror, his hatred climbing as he felt Hargrove’s slick fingers trace around his entrance.

“Let… go…” The man coughed, face coloured as he clung onto consciousness. Steve cursed and pushed down harder… he couldn’t let go - not now - he couldn’t… lose… He had to win. “Last… chance…” Billy continued, but Harrington remained in place, shaking as he tightened his grip on the man’s shaft.

In a smooth and forceful motion, Hargrove slipped his fingers inside Steve. Tensing around him, Harrington shouted, his body trembling as Billy took the last of his energy to the hand working his aching cock where, despite Steve’s watering eyes, the man hooked his fingers inside him forcing his body to buckle. 

Steve cried out - the sensitive spot Billy pushed against sending the final wave of his orgasm crashing into him. Back arching, he swore at the man as he came over their stomachs, gasping as Hargrove pulled out of him, finally releasing his grip on Steve’s sore and depleted erection.

“Fuck… fuck you.” Harrington hissed darkly, shivering in rage and humiliation. 

The man said nothing, nor did he move. 

Looking below him, Steve froze.

 

His forearm had been on Billy’s throat the entire fucking time! “SHIT!” Heart in his mouth, he rolled off of his unconscious lover, “Billy!” he yelled, slapping the man hard across the face, “Hey! ASSHOLE!”

Fuck, he wasn’t paying attention, wasn’t fucking thinking… He didn’t count he just… No. No, no, no. Sobering up in record timing, he hit Billy again, “Wake up, Billy, wake the _fuck_ up! This isn’t a game, __shit!”  
Panicking, Steve shoved his fingers against the Hargrove’s bullet wound, pushing inwards, praying to anyone who’d listen that the pain would force his body back to consciousness.  
His prayers were answered.

Steve clutched his bloodied hand to his mouth, holding back a silent sob of relief as Billy’s eyes shot open, scanning the room before jerking forward and gasping loudly. Trying not to let his tears show, Harrington hid himself under his hair and shook, realising what he’d almost done. 

“Guess… Guess I won then-”

Gaze shooting to the man still coughing beneath him, Steve hit him on the shoulder, hard. “I - you were - I thought I’d… I almost  _ killed you!  _ I - don’t… I…  _ Don’t fucking smile!”  _ To his disbelief, Billy grinned, his eyes dilated and rounded like a puppy as he blinked at Harrington. “Stop smiling! This is BAD! D’you - do you not  _ care?  _ You could’ve… you should’ve…  _ why didn’t you say anything?! Why didn’t you hit me?!”  
_ Despite the residual tingles coursing through his body from their fight to climax, Steve was truly shaken, his tongue almost numb as he imagined what would’ve happened if Hargrove hadn’t woken up. What he would have lost if the man before him had died. “You should’ve stopped me.” he mouthed silently.

“But if I did then it would’ve stopped - I - look-” Billy began, before being cut short by a harsh slap across the face.

“PRECISELY!” Steve shouted before holding his head in his hands. “No fucking… high is worth dying for! I don’t want to kill you, shithead! Not really - I don’t… Never -  _ Never again!  _ Not like that - you  _ have to signal. _

Steve flinched as he felt a warm palm rest on his knee. He didn’t want to look at him, couldn’t bare it but he didn’t have a choice. Delicately, Hargrove removed Harrington’s hand away from his face. “Hey, look, I - oh… are you crying?” Billy asked, concerned, before moving to pull him closer.

Steve pulled away, guilt ridden. “Fuck off.” He said quietly, keeping his head to the side as Hargrove kissed his tear stained cheek gently. “I thought I killed you. Last time you - it wasn’t like that, you were still breathing. Just then... You weren’t breathing, Billy.”

“I’m sorry, I... didn’t realise you cared -”

Shit. Neither did he. For the first time, Steve couldn’t deny that he cared.  Slowly, he turned to face Billy and saw across his features, fear. Fear and a deep sadness. “How… how suicidal are you?” He asked eventually, his deep brown eyes tracking the others carefully. 

“I-” Hargrove began before knotting his brows together in confusion, “I’m not - why would I be? I’m fine.” Steve watched him a moment longer before shaking his head in despair. Either Billy was lying to himself or he… simply didn’t know. “Hey - I’m okay, it’s just… it’s been a fucking clusterfuck of a day… We were both drunk and angry, I… I’m unsure quite how any of this happened but I’m fine, see? It’s gonna take more than Steve Harrington t’kill me.”

Unable to help himself, he laughed quietly. The man was right - it’d been the most intense week of his life, even so… The final events of the evening were all he needed to cement in his mind that Billy was in trouble and that Steve… Steve was a monster. 

“I’m gonna turn the light off - I dunno what time it is and like fuck am I gonna check now, but shall we just sleep it off? I can sleep on the sofa if you'd rather.”

Shivering in the autumn breeze that circulated the room, Steve shook his head. “No, it’s okay, I’m not gonna kick you out of your bed.” He said, watching as Billy rolled off the mattress, clutching his side as he stood by the light switch.

“So… you’re gonna sleep here then? Y’sure?” 

“I don’t have to, I just-” Steve began before trailing off as the room went dark. 

Squinting, he watched the shadows of branches dance across Hargrove’s bedroom ceiling before flinching as he felt the man’s warm body sit next to him on the bed. A subtle kiss on his neck was all Billy left him with as the pair shuffled under the sheets, and as he lowered himself onto the pillow, Steve turned and felt disappointment pull at his heartstrings as he noticed his host had already rolled over. Pained and overwhelmed, Harrington did the same, pulling the covers to just below his eyes as he stared out of the window, waiting for sleep to steal him away from the nightmare he was trapped in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so. It's here and it's _long_. For that, I am sorry. 
> 
> To the Good Stuff. AAA. Right, I said there is shit going on with Billy and boy did I mean it. I've had people come close to it but not quite, however I feel after this chapter, readers may twig what's going on. Maybe not though, I dunno. It's very complicated and those who have been following his deterioration closely have been incredibly perceptive. It's hard writing his battles - on a personal level, I know these fights and it is a horror story, but on another level, it's a technical challenge. I hope I have conveyed what I need to well. 
> 
> This chapter was also intended to be an emotional rollercoaster from start to finish. I wanted it to be an intensive exploration of these guys reactions to each other post-crisis, with the pair reacting to fear and pain very differently. One of the main things I wanted to connect the two was their survivor status. In this regard, I have also been secretive. So far with Steve, I have hinted at some past tragedy with an evil bitch but there's a lot more to his story that WILL be covered as it goes on. Same with Billy, though his revelations are gonna take a lot longer and be spread out in clues. Despite all of their differences, they have a lot in common in their responses to the bullshit going on around them, and it will be those things that bind them to each other, alongside their growing connection and dependency. 
> 
> *cough* the sex... That was one of the hardest NSFW scenes I have EVER written and I have been writing them for over a decade in one format or another. Why? hahaha, taking them from where they were at the hospital to that point is NO EASY TASK. Then making it flow??? when B is in the middle of an episode??? and Steve is drunk and confused??? Pffffff... Yes I am a masochist, but this... well. May not seem that big a deal when you read it, but this wasn't easy. I wanted to create tension and the feeling that both Steve and B were being trapped/manipulated by Hargrove's 'Demon'. I then wanted to reveal the pair as switches (new for Steve but Billy is a whooollle load of things rolled into one - Steve will never be bored again). Finally as we push through the climactic moments... the consequence.
> 
>  **Don't engage in breath play when drunk. Don't do it when angry. Don't ever do it without tap outs/safe words.**
> 
> If it goes wrong, it's terminal. The repercussions of this night are going to shape the pairs perception of themselves and the world around them from here on out. We thought Steve felt guilty before? oh man, we're only touching the surface of where he is gonna go. As for B... you'll see. 
> 
> Next chapter we are gonna go back to the quarantine to see the consequences of Billy and Steve's violent actions at the hospital and for two of our characters, it isn't going to end well. Then I will bring back our pal Dustin, whose been keeping secrets from not just Steve, but everyone he knows, but not before Max skids back into town.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this, I love you all.


	3. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the sun has a chance to rise, consequences of the pair's actions become apparent. At the hospital, Kevin Northwood faces Dr Simmon's unique brand of punishment, and plans are set into motion, to bring Hargove and Harrington to their knees. As Steve wakes up in Billy's apartment, he does his best to balance his guilty hangover and his lovers unusually shitty attitude, before giving up to return to work. On the other side of town, Dustin goes about his secret, other job, avoiding Steve in the process. Finally arriving at Planet Bowl, Harrington finds it impossible to hide his injuries, and discovers the true toll of the events at the hospital from the night before.

The procession had been long. He’d been followed by four men, all larger than him and each of them had been laughing. The Doctor needed to see him, which was no surprise, but even so, Kevin was unprepared.  
“Bring the television.” was what she’d said over the phone. An odd request, and he had no idea what to make of it, but the Doctor’s word was law. So he’d been escorted to the hospital AV room, and even though the men behind him were stronger, it was Kevin who had to haul the trolley.  
The five of them waited in the wreckage of what, Kevin assumed, used to be the quarantine. The room stank, and all around him from the cornered off bays, patients rasped. He wasn’t permitted to look behind the curtains, nor was he allowed to speak. He was told only to wait, silently, by the television for the Doctor to arrive. If it wasn’t for his state of dehydration, he’d be pissing himself by now.

The door opened, and in strode the blonde-haired man with the orange tie. He always proceeded the Doctor, and Kevin had come to associate him with bad omens. Bad omens in a tailor made suit. With his face turned away from them, the man waited by the door, holding it ajar.  
Then came his mistress. 3am it may be, but her appearance was, as always, flawless. She didn’t look at him. Didn’t thank the suited-man. Instead, she walked straight to the other side of the room.  
“No, I understand. Of course you’re frustrated. Well, I’m with him now.” She gazed over at Kevin. “Yes, terrified. No, it won’t be like Lakeside. I told you, he’s workable.” She laughed. The conversation continued for a while longer, and he watched as the doctor looked at the ceiling before peering behind one of the curtains. She sighed. “Understood. All of them? You don’t need to explain. Okay. Yes. Thank you. I’ll pass on the message.” And with that, she closed the lid of her metallic flip-phone.  
The room was silent again, and under the dim, fluorescent lighting, Kevin swallowed.   


“Have they found them yet?” The Doctor asked, her tone now flat. The man shook his head. “Set it up over there, Mr Black. We can wait.” Her dog obeyed without question, slipping a laptop out of his briefcase. It was only then, with his face lit by the computer screen, that Kevin saw the bruising. The man was covered in them, his nose broken with skin split across his cheekbones. They were new. That wasn’t good.  
Leaving the laptop running behind him, Mr Black returned to the doctors side. “The tape?” She asked, to which he nodded, reaching over to her. She folded her arms and shook her head. Dead-eyed, he pulled out his other hand.   
The guards behind him gasped, one sniggered. Each finger had been splinted, a cast placed on his forearm to hold the wrist steady. Dutifully, Mr Black transferred the cassette, wincing as he closed his bandaged thumb over it before handing it to the Doctor.   
She said nothing.  
Turning the tape over, the Doctor perched next to the television. “Do you know what this is, Mr Northwood?” Kevin swallowed again, his mouth dry. “Silence isn’t going to work here. It’s beneath you.” He nodded, guiltily, and mumbled. The woman smiled. “Wonderful. Would you hazard a guess when this footage was taken?”  
“This evening.”  
“Last night, technically, but never mind.” Kevin cringed at his mistake, looking at the floor in front of him. The Doctor passed the cassette back to Mr Black who accepted it with his broken fingers. “Andrew is going to play the CCTV footage from last night, and we’re all going to watch it together. Pay attention - there’ll be questions at the end.”  
Screen on, video playing, Mr Black retreated to the Doctor’s side. She shook her head, and pointed to the crowd in front of the television. Cheeks coloured, Andrew took his new place with the subordinates. 

The video began as he’d expected. The reception area. To the left of him, a guard cheered and slapped him on the back as Kevin’s face appeared on screen. He knew where this was going. Dread creeping through his frame, he tried to mouth an apology to the Doctor but she shook her head, pointing back to the television.   
The assembly watched as the pair left the office and made their way through the hospital. There was a brief interlude. A small eruption of mockery as the two men kissed in the stairwell, but the doctor wasn’t laughing. And neither was Kevin. “Watch closely now, Mr Northwood.”  
He obeyed.  
The room grew silent as on screen, the long haired man took the two guards down brutally. Here, the camera didn’t change. For two minutes, the room looked on as the guards slowly bled out. “Shit - that’s Dave, is he-?” Said one man behind him, “I dunno, he’s not getting up.” said another, and Kevin recoiled. His eyes watered as the next group checked pulses, before shaking their heads, confirming everyone’s fears.   
It only got worse from there. In the radiology lab, with the lights flashing and crowds running, the killer tore his way through the new wave of guards. Kevin hadn’t seen anything like it. Within minutes, five men lay at his feet. “Your turn now, Blacky!” came an enthusiastic bark. Andrew tensed.   
The scene that played out was rough; very few people could remain that cool when confronted with a loaded gun. Then, to everyone's surprise, the dark haired man moved in, lowering himself to Andrew’s level, who was now pinned to the floor. Next to Kevin, the man in the orange tie stared out the window. He breathed slowly through his nose.  
“Eyes on the screen, Andrew.”   
Kevin felt his blood run cold as he saw what’d landed Mr Black’s hand into casts. He was relieved there was no sound. The torture lasted a good few minutes, and for the whole of it, Andrew watched himself writhe and scream on the floor until finally, he was put out of his misery.  
The video concluded with him lying on his back, covered in his own blood. The image frozen on screen for all to see. Behind them, the guards exhale, some cover their mouths. In the present, Andrew remained motionless.

“Mr Northwood,” Shocked out of the gore induced trance, all turn to stare at Kevin. Except for Andrew. He’d silently returned to his laptop. “It’s time to be brave again, can you tell the room what you told our intruders?” All Kevin could do was stutter. “Use your words, don’t grunt. You’re clearly very capable of talking.” No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t formulate a sentence. The doctor rolled her eyes and Kevin yelped as a broad, hot hand connected with his ass sharply. A prompt from his escorts to say something.   
“I -” He began, the corners of his mouth pasty and slowing his tongue down, “I told them about the quarantine. And where to find it.” Behind him, the guards tut.  
“Good, you’re doing well. Now, whose pass did they use to reach the quarantine?”  
“Mine, it was mine.”  
The Doctor peered over her shoulder briefly to Andrew, who nodded back. She returned her gaze to Kevin before making her way to the computer. “Would you hazard a guess as to what state the men in that corridor were left in?”   
“I’m… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”  
“Answer my question.”  
“I - they’re, he’s-”  
“Dead. You don’t know David Malone, but he’s dead.”  
Swearing, whispering and a chair kicked over. The guards were unhappy. 

The Doctor stood next to Mr Black, studying the screen. “This man here,” The laptop is turned, revealing the blonde intruders face. “Killed David Malone in under five seconds, and landed his partner in the I.C.U.” He babbled a panicked apology. The Doctor held up her hand, silencing him instantly. Heels clicked as she walked to a curtained off bay, “You may not know what happens in here, Mr Northwood, but those two do.” Face grave, she tapped a manicured thumbnail against the hidden strangers life-support. “Do you know what this means, Kevin?”  
“Others-”  
“Yes, others. Others will know. So, you see, you’ve forced me into a tricky position.” She said, stroking the switch, “I could be brave like you; disobey my higher-ups and let patients like - Mr Bateman here, live. Or, I could be a coward - push this, and save my life.” Kevin panicked. “What am I, Mr Northwood? Am I brave? Or am I cowardly?”  
“Please don’t, yes - you’re brave. Braver than me, you-”  
She flicked the switch. Silence.   
“The problem is, I’m not like you. I’m a coward.” White coat trailing behind her, the Doctor waited by the next bed. “If I don’t clean up your mess, then my life is forfeit. But, you’re a persuasive person, maybe you could save a life here today. It’s the least you could do, after all, you’ve already taken two.” Leaning against the life-support machine, she concluded. “So, encourage me to be brave.”  
Sweating and dizzy, Kevin grovelled. She pushed it anyway.

The Doctor continued to patrol the room, stopping at each occupied bedside as she did.  
“It’s the fear, you see? I just keep thinking how they’re going to find me. How they’ll wait for the perfect moment to end it. The fear, Kevin, it does things to me that I’m not proud of.”   
He choked on his tears.  
“Do you know who’s behind this curtain?” The Doctor asked, hip pressed against the frame to exaggerate her curves. He said he didn’t know. She narrowed her stare. The penny dropped, and he froze. “Bethany Brown!” She exclaimed, clapping. “What a good memory you have. Gold star for you! Bethany Brown. Fifty-six, British ex-pat, married, senior nurse. Lovely woman, so I’m told.” Click.  
Kevin felt his body swell and numb as he watched the lights on the machine flicker and darken. There was a strangled sound from behind the curtain, but it was over in under a minute. The pair stared at each other. Seven. He’d killed seven people in one night.

It was Andrew who spoke next. “They’ve found their names.”   
“Wonderful.” She said, leaving Kevin to break before rejoining her puppet. “Let’s start with the barbarian.”  
“Says here… Hargrove. William Hargrove, though his friend called him ‘Billy’. Seems to live on Prospect Avenue.”  
“Noted, and the other?”  
“Harrington.”   
The woman paused and asked him to repeat himself. Unreadable, she spun away from the laptop and returned to the television. A card was passed down to her. Apparently, the idiot had left his work ID on the corpse of David Malone. The Doctor studied it intently. “Steve Harrington.” She murmured at the screen.  
Unable to move, speak or think, Kevin listened. As it turned out, his mistress knew this ‘Steve’. He’d dated one of her friends from college. The man was also held in high regard within the community, so their original plan to get rid of the pair before dawn was out of the question.   
Andrew had been concerned about the confidentiality breach, but the Doctor insisted that this man wouldn’t be rushing to tell anyone. Mr Black wasn’t convinced.  
“But that won’t keep them quiet forever. We have orders. If Wave 2-”  
“Wave 2 will be fine. It’s already underway. As for our intruders,” She ran a finger over her deep red lips, “I know someone who can help with Harrington. They have a certain way with people. Don’t worry, he won’t be a problem for much longer.”

Eventually, discussion was brought back to Hargrove. Having divulged all Andrew could tell of the man from his brief encounter, the Doctor concluded that William was unstable, possibly dissociative. Kevin had no idea what that meant, but the smile creeping across her face told him this was somehow a good thing. To her, anyway.  
“So, Harrington was able to ground him, yes? He got through?”  
Andrew nodded, confirming that if it wasn’t for the evil cunt, he’d be dead.  
The Doctor held her hands over her mouth for a moment, before reiterating that no one was to go after Hargrove. Not yet, anyway.  Andrew protested, reminding her that the men at the sheriff's office were one step away from kicking his door down. She shut him up, saying all would have to hold fire. “He’s a loose canon, Simmons. One wrong move and he’ll explode.” Andrew hissed, frustration rising. Her grin only widened. 

Confused, the man quizzed her, but she divulged nothing. In the end, Andrew was left in the dark, folding his laptop away and depositing it into his briefcase. The Doctor turned to Kevin. “First things first, the loose ends. Mr Northwood, you still with us? We’re going to need Mr Browns address.” Andrew raised his voice again but the woman spoke over him. “No - I want Kevin to give me his address.” Privately, Kevin pictured a noose made out of ties. “I know it’ll be on your computer system. You’re always thorough with your note-taking.”   
“Please don’t make me.”  
The Doctor waltzed over to him and lowered herself to his level, wiping a tear from his cheek. Her eyes almost kind as she took on a softer tone. “Shh, time to be a man. Time to take responsibility for your _ bravery _ .”  
He begged as she stroked his chin, but the Doctor ignored him, placing a delicate kiss on his forehead before turning to address the guards, who were bickering amongst themselves. Clearing her throat, the Doctor squeezed his shoulder possessively. Numb now, he dreamt of packets of aspirin stacked in a blue shopping basket.

“Boys, a moment if I may.” The hired men stumbled into line. “Young Kevin here is going to help us deliver a message to Malone’s killer. One he can’t possibly ignore. In the meantime,” She continued, surveying the room, “I want you wonderful lot to deal with this... catastrophe.”   
A cocky man with a cleft chin and pierced ear, boldly stepped forward, asking what she wanted doing exactly. Kevin noticed a tattooed hand stroke along his belt. “Remind you of anyone?” The Doctor whispered to Andrew, who rolled his eyes and walked to the door.   
Amused, she asked for his name, he told her it was Buck. “Well, Buck, you’re lucky you’re cute, I thought it was self-explanatory. I need you to destroy everything. Bodies, files, even the air conditioning. By sunrise, I want this place empty. I don’t care how you do it, I need it all gone.”   
The man bowed playfully. To the left of him, an older guard groaned and clipped him around the back of the head. The Doctor eyed him up and down, impressed with his audacity. Buck shrugged off his friend, straightened himself and winked. In the doorway, Mr Black shook his head as his mistress laughed.  “After you’ve finished here, find Andrew. He isn’t going anywhere. He’ll take you to my office.” Kevin heard the sound of jeering from the guards now slapping their comrade on the back. “Oh, and Buck?”  
“Yes ma’am?”  
“Be sure to limber up.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as he’d seen the bed occupied, Steve panicked and rolled out. It wasn’t an elegant escape; he’d fallen on his face, but it was an escape nonetheless. Thankfully, the man still inhabiting it remained fast asleep. 

Sitting on the floor by the window, he clutched his head. Steve was unable to tell whether it was the worst hangover he’d ever had, but it was certainly a contender. His whole body ached. All the bruises and breaks had somehow joined forces with the migraine until even breathing hurt. Karma, Steve supposed. Bewildered, he surveyed his surroundings. It’d been five years since he’d shared a bed with someone. Today though; today he’d woken up with bloody hands and a tender dick in a mad-man’s apartment. He laughed to himself in the darkness.  
Wincing, he lunged for the smokes that weren’t his and let the grey, translucent ribbon snake upwards. Sunrise had barely begun. By his reckoning, Steve had another hour sitting at the bedside before Hargrove woke up. He looked around him before pulling over his bare legs a sweatshirt that also, was not his.   
From his nest on the floor, Steve watched Billy turn in his sleep, absentmindedly ploughing through the packet of cigarettes. To his surprise, his subconscious had very little to say on the night before. What’d been of pressing concern only a few hours ago had since been boxed away by his nuclear hangover, and Steve was okay with that. Instead, he tried to plan his day.   
The way he saw it, there were two options. He could either get his shit together and go to work, or do as his throbbing head pleaded, and go home. Steve knew what he should do, and he knew what he wanted to do, but despite all the risks, Planet Bowl was winning. It felt to him, that if he could just somehow make it through those double doors and crawl to his desk, the universe would right itself again. So bringing an end to this absurd nightmare he’d been stuck in since August. Yes, there was a high chance he’d be making himself a target but right now, his world needed normality, and nothing was more normal than work. At least there, he’d be distracted. Yawning, he squinted at the glowing, orange tip of his fifth cigarette.  
Steve then thought about breakfast. There were no leftovers, Billy had devoured almost all of the pizza by himself, and if he remembered right, the man said he had nothing in. He’d have to get something on the way to work. Rolling his head against the wall from side to side, Steve went through his options. Already, the night before was starting to fade into insignificance as he pictured hashbrowns, sugary pastries and bagels dripping with warm butter. 

“Y’know... It’s polite to ask before y’steal a guy’s cigarettes.”  
Steve shot up and hit his head on the window ledge. “Shit, sorry,” He began as he tried to stand with legs numb from his seated position. “I didn’t want to wake you by trying to find mine.”  
He watched the man massage his temples, his tangled, blonde hair sprawling over the pillow beneath. Turning to him, Billy raised an eyebrow before looking at the ceiling. “The floor eh? What, suddenly grown an allergy to me, is that it?”  
“Couldn’t sleep, is all.” Steve replied, clutching his calf as pins and needles made his toes curl. His host shrugged. Unsure what to do with himself, Steve stood by the window and waited for a signal to move. There was none. Billy lay in the bed, staring upwards for a while longer.  
“How long’ve you been on the floor?”   
“I dunno. An hour or so. It was dark when I woke up.”  
“And you just sat there? Didn’t go to the bathroom or anything?”  
“Yeah, as I said. Didn’t want to wake you.”  
“Right.”  
Steve shivered at the frostiness between them and folded his arms, covering his bare chest. Gone was the mystery deviant with the silver-bell laugh. Instead, he was confronted with a beat-up lion, who’d seemingly taken offence at his attempt to be considerate.   
“Y’got a super bladder or something?” Billy asked, propping himself up by his elbows.   
“Huh? No, just don’t need to go.”  
“Y’serious? After all you drank last night, you don’t need a piss?” Steve took a leaf out of Hargrove’s book and shrugged. The man coughed blood onto the back of his hand. “Weird.” 

Rolling forwards, the big cat tried to sit up and yelled.   
“Y’alright?” Steve asked, instinctively, to which Billy snarled in his direction.  
“Fucking… No.”   
“Shit.” The bullet wound. Dodging the clothes piled over the floor and stubbing out his cigarette, Steve extended an arm to help the man up. Billy pushed him away, doubling over himself. “D’you need anything? You bleeding again?”  
“A smoke. Get me a fucking smoke, right now. Move!” He hissed through gritted teeth. Having found his menthols, Steve slipped one out and passed it to Billy, who snatched it with a crimson stained hand. He lit it with a grey lighter he’d found under his pillow, and disappeared behind the toxic fog.   
“You good?” Steve asked cautiously.   
“Good? Do I look good to you?!” Billy shouted, to which Steve raised his eyebrows and shook his scruffy, haired head. He then threw his hands in the air before leaning against the wall. As he listened to the stream of obscenities hurled in his direction, Steve tried instead to picture the suicidal flirt. Tried to remember the knowing in their voice, their dancing cyan eyes and their lips on his-  
“Oi!” Snapped out of his daydream, Steve returned his attention to the more familiar Billy preparing to move. “Get another ready. Just - have it ready, got it?”  
“Loud and clear.” He replied.

Steve wasn’t sure if he was impressed or very amused by what he was witnessing. Drawing on what strength he could gather from his cancer stick, the wounded animal counted to three under his breath, and sat up fully. Lips pursed together with smoke flowing from his nose like a dragon, Billy threw back the sheets. Steve averted his gaze from the man’s erection and held the next smoke in his hand. Following their conversation the night before, he was no longer surprised by Hargove’s unique response to pain.   
Lunging forwards, Billy fixed his palm against the wall before doubling over. Steve tried again to offer assistance, but it was hopeless. Hargrove was determined to do it by himself.  
“You’ve got it, right?” Steve nodded and held the cigarette in front of him, eyes on the wall. “What’s your bloody problem?” Silently, Steve gestured downwards with the smoke and the man started cursing again, cheeks red. “Y’know what? Fuck this. Go - Get the  _ fuck _ out!”

Depositing the bribe onto a tower of boxes, Steve walked out and into the bathroom. As he pissed, he could hear Billy slam into a wall. A bottle had also been thrown, by the sounds of it. At first, he’d been sympathetic to the man’s temper. Steve rarely survived a hangover without insulting at least one person he cared about. And that was without having been shot. Even so, it’d grown tiring.    
He took a moment to look in the mirror and grimaced, prodding his bruised and swollen cheekbones. This was going to make work interesting. He looked for his clothes and noticed the bloodied mountain still sodden on the tiles. He groaned.  
“Hey, Billy? Is it alright if I borrow clothes for work?” He called out from the bathroom. There was a thud behind the door as the man’s body landed against it.  
“Whatever, sure. You done in there?” Steve opened the door and steadied himself as Billy pushed past him. Rushing to flip himself out of his pants, Billy glared at him to leave. 

Standing in the hallway, Steve stared up at the nicotine staining on the ceiling. He felt desperately unwelcome. He considered just grabbing his stuff and taking to the streets half naked, but he knew that was ridiculous. For a start, he hadn’t had a coffee yet, and he’d be damned if he was going to take his sorry ass to work without caffeine. It was his routine, routine was normality, and once again, normality kept him from yesterday's reality.  
Door opening, his clothes were thrown at his feet. His host then lurched over them to return to his room, not once stopping to acknowledge Steve’s presence. Determined to be as little hassle as possible, Steve stayed where he was until Billy thundered out again, presenting him with a pile of clean clothes and a plastic bag. “For your shit.” He’d said, before twisting past him to the kitchen.   
Billy’s attitude was starting to sting now, and Steve could feel his defences readying themselves. He swallowed his upset, returning to the bathroom to dress himself. Sweatpants, a baggy grey t-shirt and the navy pullover he’d used as a temporary blanket. Embarrassed, he imagined how his colleagues would respond to him. He had no other choice though - it was wear this or go to work late. And Steve was never late for work.  
In the living room with his ‘shit’ in a bag, he spotted the stains he’d left on the sofa. Despite Billy’s assurances yesterday, Steve knew there was no way that blood was going to come out. A coffee cup was placed on the counter and Steve almost threw himself at it - finally, a kindness. Billy on the other hand, had chosen a large carton of orange juice. The pair remained in silence, Steve sipping at the unsweetened coffee whilst Billy swallowed thirstily from the carton. He watched the man down a handful of assorted painkillers. Then he watched as he began to clean his injury again. The quiet was heavy on his shoulders, so when Billy spoke, Steve was almost relieved.  
“You going to work then?” The man asked, swabbing the broken skin. Steve nodded. “What happened to all that ‘gotta play it safe’ bullshit from last night?”   
Steve raised his eyebrows, surprised his host had remembered. “I am playing it safe. Didn’t say anything about not going to work.”  
“Yes you did. You gave me a bollocking about it."  
“No, I didn’t. Just said we had to be careful -  _ you _ made it about work.”  
Billy threw the red cloth into the trash, and tore open a fresh dressing. “Uhuh, sure. Whatever you say.”

Steve lowered the cup from his lips. He thought about snapping back, but buried the urge. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, confused.  
Billy smirked, checking to make sure the dressing would hold, “Why would I be?”  
“I dunno.” He then remembered how their ‘session’ had ended. “Look, I’m sorry about, y’know - that.” The man leaned against the counter. “It wasn’t supposed to go that way, it won’t happen again.” Billy said nothing and lit another smoke. “I just, I was drunk.”  
“Y’seem to think that I care. I don’t. Just let it go. Life happens - Shit happens. Yesterday was shit from beginning to end. Y’can either stress about the shit or let it go.” Steve went to open his mouth, the man continued. “D’you want me to be angry? Because I’d rather ignore all of this, sit on that couch and watch TV. Is that gonna be a problem for you, princess?”  
Steve raised his eyebrows, Billy furrowed his. “No, not at all.” The ten tonne silence resumed. After what he’d almost done last night, he could permit the man’s animosity. He checked the time. “I’m gonna head off in a bit, I was thinking of talking to Dustin about the quarantine. He may know what to do.”   
The man snorted, “Do we need to do anything?”  
“Well, no. I dunno. I think it’s important he knows.” Billy rolled his eyes and retreated to the sofa, orange juice in hand and feet on the cushions. He reached for the remote and turned the television on. “You staying here?” Steve tried. Billy shook his head, eyes fixed on the screen. “You’re going to work, then?” A nod. “Y’sure that’s wise? You can hardly move-” The man’s laugh was sudden, a bark almost.  
“I’ve been considerably worse than this and done perfectly fine. Trust me.” Steve did, but he was still concerned. He didn’t have a problem with Billy returning to work, he was just very aware of his impairment. He wouldn’t be able to run, to fight, to do anything much. “What?” Billy asked, head hanging over the side of the couch.  
“It’s nothing.” Steve lied.  
“Yeah right. Listen, I’m not gonna be bullied into hiding by some shady cunt in a suit that I can just stab in the neck. I won’t leave unarmed. Before you say it, no I won’t be taking the gun. I’ll be fine, I always am. Save your concern for someone who needs it.” 

Tongue pushed to the back of his teeth, Steve pursed his lips and rode the sting. He felt within him, a small and soft form snap in two, the gooey remains flattened by tall, granite walls. He gave up. This had been a bad idea. Clearly, Billy was too reactive to hold conversation, and too stubborn to listen to reason. Steve would just have to do it the ‘adult’ way. Compartmentalise, grab a potted fern and slam it over the disaster.   
If Billy was cool getting shot on the way to work, that was his prerogative. Steve wasn’t going to waste another breath on the man.  
Kicking on his dirty Converse, he shoved the rest of his belongings into the plastic bag. He looked back, and slipping a cigarette into mouth, he walked out, slamming the door hard behind him.

 

* * *

 

Today was a busy day, and the only day of the month Dustin set an alarm. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he rolled over and thumped the screeching machine. He took a moment to stretch and blink a few times before nodding to himself.  
Aside from the early start, Dustin’s day began like any other. Dodge the cat to get to the bathroom. Look forlornly in the little mirror for the beard that still wasn’t growing. Slump at the table to devour a mountain of pancakes.  Sling plate into kitchen. Battle his mom for not washing said plate. Bundle himself into clothes. Yell at his mom some more.  
A totally normal morning, except for the spliff he rejected, and the tin he’d pulled out from under his mattress.   
Kicking the door closed, Dustin bent over the tin and with one eye still fixed on the door, he opened it. He breathed a sigh of relief and pulled out the cash. He then spread it over his bedding and counted, twice. Satisfied, he tied an elastic band around the larger pile, and swept the rest back into the tin. Secret buried under the mattress again, Dustin tucked the money into the top of his underpants, adjusted himself and grabbed his backpack. In there, he threw three cartons of Capri-Sun, his last bag of Dorito’s and his mom’s mobile phone - stolen when she’d collected his laundry.  
Coat and hoodie on, Dustin shouted a quick goodbye to his mom before hurrying out of the door.

Face forward with hands buried in his pockets, Dustin made his way through the yawning streets of Hawkins. The air was crisp and cold, the town quiet and braced, awaiting rush hour. The people walking past him in their dark, heavy coats, were quiet and sullen, and all were on their way to work. Only establishments serving breakfasts were open, the aromas from the kitchens lifting Dustin’s spirits as he continued his march to his destination.  
He had completed some variant of this journey every month for around four years now. Dustin knew the drill. Keep your head up and act normal. That’d been what Skinny Jim had said, and he’d been doing this since the seventies. Even so, Dustin still flinched as the sirens flew by.  
Rounding the corner past the pharmacy, Dustin squinted and doubled back on himself. Peering over his mom’s phone, he watched a furious man throw a cigarette butt over his shoulder and storm across the road. Despite his adrenaline, Dustin smiled.   
Steve was a mess. Dustin couldn’t quite make out his face, but he’d recognise those special edition Converse anywhere. Something was off though. The clothes were definitely not his. Dustin knew for a fact that Steve wouldn’t be caught dead wearing sweatpants in public. Yet there he was, thundering through town with hair that hadn’t been brushed, clutching a plastic bag, and drowning in a Motorhead hoodie, two sizes too big.  
Everything in him itched to run over and get the gossip, but he thought better of it. Once Steve started talking about his drama, he couldn’t stop. Dustin sighed. He’d have to wait for the inevitable call instead. With Steve finally out of sight, he slipped the phone back into his pocket and continued his journey. 

Arriving at his destination, Dustin scanned his surroundings. It was empty, except for the beat up, blue Foxhead Mustang parked boldly outside Tino’s Mexican Grill. Dustin didn’t like meeting in public like this. He felt it was asking for trouble, but Skinny Jim had insisted, _“If y’do yer business in plain sight, it sends a message t’ the others in town. Shows yer balls. And you gotta have big fucken balls to keep a territory nowadays.”_ He’d also told him, that no one would be looking for them in the nicer areas of town, especially in the morning. He’d said it was the last place anyone would expect their exchange to take place.  
Dustin had mixed feelings about Jim. When he’d first met the man, he’d been friendly. A grinning skeleton in baggy clothes with his duffle bag, punting around in his car to wherever money could be made. He was a household name, and it was his cheery disposition that’d kept him out of jail for decades. But times had changed, and so had Jim.  
He wasn’t nasty, he just felt behind. Forgotten. So he had spent a lot of time travelling across other states to find ways to make himself relevant again. This fed a competitive streak that make Dustin uneasy. The man’s paranoia was also a problem, but Dustin knew how to handle him. Something he only did because he trusted him. Skinny Jim was safe. 

Standing at the door now, Dustin took a deep breath and knocked four times in a syncopated manner. The window rolled open and he coughed as smoke was sucked out of the vehicle like a vacuum.  
“Dusty! Dusty, Dusty, Dusty - my young King of the Green. Y’alright? Y’good?”  
Dustin looked at the browning, worn down teeth and grinned. “Freezing my fucking ass off, but good.”  
“Yer mom, she still makin’ you those pancakes? With the bananas on ‘em and all that?” Dustin nodded. “Good. Very good, y’gotta eat yer fruit. That’s what moms should do, give you fruit. I don’t think I saw a fruit ‘til I was twenty.” The man’s laugh echoed around them. It sounded like a tractor that couldn’t quite start. “You gettin’ in, boy? I’ve been boxing this fucking car since dawn. Gotta do the window up before it all goes.”  
Climbing into the car, Dustin held his backpack on his lap and wrinkled his nose. Jim hadn’t been lying. The air was thick with smoke and it clung to everything. At the centre of the haze sat Skinny Jim, tapping the steering wheel with bony hands, in time to the music blasting from his stereo.  
“Y’good, pal? Y’good?” The man yelled. Dustin gave him the thumbs up. He then proceeded to wave a joint in Dustin’s direction. He politely refused. “Y’sure? Come on, Dusty, don’t make an old man smoke alone.” He begged, but Dustin shook his head again, raising his hands to block out the electronic din. “Oh, sorry mate, sorry.” Jim replied, muting the Fatboy Slim album he listened to religiously. “Just gettin’ to a good bit, y’know? The guy’s a fucking musical genius.”  
Dustin looked at the man who drew in deep from his joint. Skin flaked and crisped across his gaunt features, and he looked paler than usual. This wasn’t a surprise though. Skinny Jim had recently discovered methamphetamine, and a lot had gone downhill since then. Dustin wondered when he had last eaten. He swore the man was shrinking, but he knew there was no point asking. The world had a different set of rules for Skinny Jim.  
“You got it, then?”  
“Yeah, sorry.” Dustin rifled around in his underpants and pulled out the wad of cash. He handed it over.  
“Good - Yer a good lad, Dusty.”  
“Y’not going to count it?”  
“No - I trust you. You’ve never done me wrong before.” 

Tucking the money into his oversized sports socks, Jim passed over a red drawstring bag. Dustin thanked him and opened it. There was only half the usual amount. He looked over, confused, and watched the man smile proudly. “Northern Lights, that. Take it in Dusty, take it in.” Dustin breathed in deep. “I know what you like, boy, but this,” Skinny Jim pulled out a block wrapped in black cellophane, “This came in last week and will blow yer mind.”  
Dustin turned it over in his hand, “What is it? The lemon one again? I’ve had people asking about it for months.” He opened the package, sniffed it and gagged.   
“It’s new - one of a kind.”  
“That’s been sprayed.” Dustin grimaced. He hated sprayed pot. It was harsher on the lungs and burnt the throat.   
“Yeah, but I’ve tried this one, kid, it’s something else. Just, hear me out, okay? There’s a story.”  
Sighing, Dustin settled back in the tattered, leather seat. There was  _ always _ a story. With every new haul of ‘Conspiracy Pot’, there was a larger than life lie to go with it. The taller the tale, and the further the weed was rumoured to have travelled, the better it must be. Which was just as well. This god awful batch was going to need all the help it could get. 

Apparently, Skinny Jim had gone to Texas, to a city called Austin. Apparently, that’s where all the ‘mad shit’ went down. Very ‘hip’, Jim recalled. The man spent most of his time diving in and out of bars, tripping, and decorating canoes. At one point, he’d even thought he was an elf. Bought the costume too.   
It was at an outdoor barbecue with his face painted like a lizard, that Skinny Jim discovered the pot.   
He’d been on ‘mandy’ at the time, a drug Dustin was unfamiliar with, and after an hour spent stroking a soft, wooden table (the softest, Jimmy had insisted), he bumped into a Brazilian guy. Jim spent the entire evening talking to the man in the yellow sunglasses, until it was revealed his new friend had stolen some amazing smoke from a military van at the Argentinian border.  
Rumour has it, the weed had travelled hundreds of miles from a secret plantation at the southernmost part of the continent. It was a hybrid, created by splicing the DNA of a plant brought over from Afghanistan and another found on the Peruvian mountains - a real diamond. But now, the Brazilian had decided to make right with God and quit drugs altogether. So, to save his soul, he had to get rid of it.   
Skinny Jim had no intention of paying for it, so he’d challenged the man to a drinking game. He’d won, and despite how violently ill he’d been after, he claimed the pot as his own. As soon as word had gotten out about his victory, he was run out of town and across the borders of Arkansas, Missouri and Illinois, by men with guns.  
If Jim was a lesser man, he would’ve caved, but he was loyal to Indiana and he wasn’t going to sell. Not to anyone outside of Hawkins, that is. 

“Y’see, Dusty? This pot is  _ special! _ There’s so little of it left, right?” Dustin nodded and tried not to laugh. “We have to be clever. Savvy and all that. The cities are just vomiting shitty, kid dealers across the small towns. Bringin’ over their fuckin’ cheap, nasty ass skunk and tainted pills. No room for the little guy, see? We gotta keep up, gotta have the upper hand on our competitors.”  
“And this is it? Our upper hand?” Dustin sniffed the batch again, unconvinced. The man nodded.  
“D’you remember Ghost?”  
Dustin winced, “Yeah, I remember Ghost.”  
“Well, it’s kinda like that. But better. It’ll give you headaches after a while, but the high… It’s like yer entire brain’s been turned into a fuckin’ marshmallow. Just without the drowsiness."  
“What?”  
“Y’heard me. I think whatever it’s sprayed with is laced with caffeine. I’ve been smokin’ it since I woke up ‘nd I’m wide awake, Dustin, wide awake. I’m fuckin’ alert! ‘Nd I haven’t had an upper since Saturday. Y’sure you don’t want any? I promise you, it’s good.”  
“Nah, I’m good. Prefer the classic stuff.”  
Jim laughed, “Yer young and all, but you talk about smoke like you lived it in the sixties. Anyway, you don’t need to try it, just need to sell it, yeah?”  
“Got it.” Dustin replied, his fingers a blur on his mom’s phone as he sent the message out.  _ ‘Open.’ _

Depositing the product in his backpack, the pair chatted for a while. Dustin held his ground when asked if he’d consider dealing ‘The Blue’, to which the man ruffled his hair. He told Dustin he was a smart kid with principles, and that was valuable. He’d also said that he wanted to help. He felt Dustin was missing out, and he couldn’t have that when worse people had more. Skinny Jim fancied himself a father figure. It was his belief that if Dustin expanded his portfolio, he’d be better off when Jim kicked the bucket. Like an inheritance. But Dustin had watched his surrogate father decay since he’d delved into crystal meth, and he wanted no part of it.  
His phone buzzed a few times as texts began to come in. “I think that’s my cue, Jim.”   
“Course, you do you, yeah?”   
Dustin studied the man coughing into the back of his hand, “Take care of yourself, alright?”  
“Y’lookin’ out for me, kid?”  
“I guess, yeah. I dunno, just, try and sleep?”  
“Pshh, sleep’s for those with nought better to do.”  
Dustin sighed and shrugged his shoulders. He said a final goodbye before climbing out. The synthesizers resumed as soon as he’d shut the door, echoing through the empty carpark. Dustin rolled his eyes and checked his phone. Fifteen messages awaited him. It was 8:30 am and his day had hardly begun, so, Capri-Sun in hand, Dustin headed home. He had weighing to do. 

 

* * *

 

 

Steve arrived outside Planet Bowl, shrouded by his fringe, and cursing. In his rush to leave Billy’s apartment, he’d failed to notice how his shoes were still sodden through, and now, his wet socks were all he could think about. In true Harrington fashion, Steve had replaced the truly terrifying, with the mildly humiliating. It may have been a subconscious process, but it was effective; so concerned with his disastrous appearance was he, that nothing else mattered. Embarrassment was a powerful focus, and in this case, it was quite possibly the only thing that had gotten him to work without a panic attack.  
Grimacing into the last of his cigarette, he flicked it on the floor, flattening it with his soggy Converse. The smoke did nothing to drown out Billy’s scent on his clothing, and Steve was in two minds as to how he felt about this. After the man’s bullshit behaviour this morning, a part of Steve wanted to torch the clothes, just to spite him. And yet, a quieter voice, one still shaken from the night before, wanted nothing more than to flip the hood up, pull the drawstrings tight, and completely immerse himself in their muddled connection.  
Steve didn’t quite understand these feelings, nor did he want to. He’d probably be dead long before he’d get the opportunity to explore them, so what was the point in dwelling further? It wasn’t like he wanted to feel this way; he didn’t  _ choose _ any of this, but despite how close to insane Billy seemed, Steve found himself wishing their shared morning could’ve gone differently. 

“Harrington?”  
Steve almost shot out of his skin. “Mhmm?” He just about managed.  
“Y’alright?”  
Steve shook his head violently, and turned to face one of his employees, smoking and squinting up at him. “Yeah, I guess, why?” A pause hung in the air as the kid stared at him, confused, “What’re you looking at?” Steve snapped, harsher than he’d intended.  
“You’re kidding, right?”  
“No, why would I - shit.” His cheeks flushed. “I’m fine.”  
“What the fuck happened to you, man? I saw you here yesterday, but you were at least intact!”  
Steve fumbled in the giant pockets, his mind rushing to find the least humiliating explanation for his presentation, and failed. “Nothing, was just jumped on the way home.” He winced as the words fell out of his split lips.  
“And what? They stole your clothes too?”  
“No, of course not, dickhead.” Steve snarled, defensively.  
“Chill, dude, I was joking. It’s just-”  
“Just what?”  
“Y’look-”  
“What?” Steve narrowed his eyes at the kid, who looked ready to burst out laughing, and held his gaze.  
“Nothing.” He finally replied, biting his lip.  
“Good. And why the fuck are you outside anyway? You’re scheduled for tills until three, and last time I checked, it’s just past nine. Your shift has literally just begun. Get your ass back inside.” The kid scowled, the recoiled suddenly as Steve clipped him round the back of the head, knocking the cigarette to the floor. “Move.” 

Using his disgraced employee as a shield, Steve did his best to be invisible while escorting the truant to his station. It didn’t work, but at least the severe expression across his face was enough to keep everyone at bay. Everyone, that was, except Jenny.  
“Oh… Oh my god, Steve? _Steve!_ ” She yelled after him, but Harrington had already rounded the corner and thrown himself into his office sanctuary. Back pressed against the door, he scanned the room to find any keys to lock himself in, and swallowed. Hurriedly, Steve emptied his ‘bag of shit’ on the floor, and rummaged in the bloody, damp pile, to find the keys, but it was too late. “Mr Harrington? Can I come in?”  
“I’d rather you-” The handle was already turning. Steve considered for a moment using his body to wedge the door shut, but decided against it.  Turning his attention instead, to bundling his belongings back into the plastic bag. “Just, give me a moment, will you?” He tried for the final time, but it was too late. The door swung open, and smacked him square in the ribs.   
“Oh! Shit! - sorry, I didn’t mean that, I didn’t hear you, uh-” The girl stammered as Steve doubled over. “I just, I saw you in the lobby, you looked - oh my god, I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to-”  
“It’s fine.” Steve lied through gritted teeth, slipping the last of his stained clothes out of sight.   
“It’s not though, I’m a stupid idiot.”  
“Don’t worry about it, okay? It was an accident. What was it you wanted?” He looked at Jenny’s big, warm eyes, and did his best not to grimace. Steve knew exactly what she wanted.

“Are you okay? Your face - did… did someone hurt you?” Jenny asked, genuinely concerned. Steve tried to reassure the girl moving in close to inspect his bruised cheeks, and stumbled against a chair. “Were you attacked? Mom had bruises like that once, did you call the police?”  
“No. No police.” Steve answered quickly, moving his body behind the chair to create distance between them.   
Jenny frowned. “You can tell people, you know? It wasn’t that guy, was it? The one from before, with the hair. And the jacket?”  
“Billy?” Steve laughed, “Nope, this time, it wasn’t him. Look, don’t worry about it, it was a one off. Just some assholes looking for easy cash.”   
To Steve’s horror, Jenny bypassed his chair defence, and wrapped herself around him. He froze, curling his hands at his sides as her large chest pressed against him. She smelled of candy and all things sweet. “Why do these things keep happening to you?” She asked sadly, her lips brushing against his neck.   
Steve was unsure what to do. Somehow, his responses with Billy came naturally, even if they were shockingly twisted at times. But with Jenny, and most others for that matter, Steve struggled to know what to do when presented with affection. For the past few years, he simply shut down, and that generally worked. Jenny, however, was so  _ nice _ , it was impossible for Steve to hold onto his personal space without seeming like a dick. This hug, though, this hug had to stop.   
“Hey, Jenny, do you mind… letting go?”  
The girl pulled away suddenly, her face pink. She tried to apologise, and Steve felt immediately guilty. “I didn’t mean to - I just thought-” Jenny began, before both of their attention were drawn to a small, clear bag, that had fallen out of her pocket.

“That’s not what it looks like.” She insisted, stepping back as Steve bent over to inspect the white powder. He sighed.  
“Then please explain.” He asked, watching the girl trembling like a leaf.   
“I found it - it’s not mine, I swear.”  
Steve studied her expression for any sign of a lie, and saw none. “Where did you find it?”  
“Tucked under one the tables at the diner. I spotted it this morning when cleaning. I think it was deliberately left there.”   
Concerned and confused, Steve quizzed her further. They’d found drugs at the alley plenty of times, and this wasn’t the first time cocaine had been confiscated, but this was the first time it’d been discovered, taped under a table, on a Tuesday morning. He tapped the bag, and held it to the light. Steve didn’t have a problem per-say, with people being on drugs - to judge would be hypocritical. He did have an issue with drugs being dealt on his establishment, in broad daylight, during school holidays.   
“I thought I’d take it to you first, no one else knows about it.” Jenny said quickly as Steve rummaged in his desk draw for the cabinet keys. She continued to babble until he unlocked the cabinet, and pulled out a small, steel box. “What’s that?” She asked, walking over.  
“Confiscated items. Well, the ones I’m unsure what to do with.”  
“Wait, you’ve got other drugs in there too?”  
“Some. Police don’t bother with found drugs in small amounts, and I usually can’t be bothered to bring them to the station.”  
“Why don’t you throw them away?” Jenny asked, confused.  
“And deal with some kid finding them in our trash? No. Safer here.” He concluded, depositing the cocaine in the box before locking it away again. “Who the fuck deals in the morning though? I mean, there’s a time and a place.”

Jenny leaned against the cabinet, deep in thought. “Well, the News did say that there’d been an increase in drug crime across Indiana. It’s becoming a big problem, apparently. Even on the local News, they had these graphs comparing the numbers from 1991 to present.”  
Steve slid into his chair and pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. “Yeah, but coke? And as blatant as that? This isn’t Miami, it’s Hawkins.”  
“At least it wasn’t heroin. A small town just down the road, has apparently got a huge heroin problem.”  
“What happened to just smoking up and getting drunk at the quarry?” Steve mumbled nostalgically, cigarette smoke curling from his nose.   
“You used to  _ get high?”  _ Jenny exclaimed before lowering her voice.   
“Used to.” Steve clarified, quickly, not wanting to give away his current stoner status at this point. “It used to be, that people would just get a bit high, eat a mountain of fast food, and pass out. Well, that’s what happened when we were teenagers. I dunno what everyone else was doing. No one really had a problem, because we were just idiot, stoner kids. Not threats.”  
“That’s not what the News was saying. A man in a white coat kept insisting pot was a ‘gateway drug’? That it starts with the harmless ones, and then the dangerous drugs come in. I don’t think weed makes people do bad things, but the man on the News said, if it wasn’t for drugs like pot being so accessible, then the incident at the hospital last night, simply wouldn’t have happened.”

Steve’s heart stopped. Reality. He choked on his smoke until his eyes watered. “What incident?” He asked, trying his best to sound normal as he coughed. Jenny, unusually oblivious to his panic, explained that she’d heard about it on the radio. It seemed the media had been told that two ‘junkies’ had held a ward hostage, in an attempt to get access to opiates, sending the hospital into a frenzy before shooting at cops as they tried to escape.   
“Did they say anything about who those guys were?” Steve chanced, hiding his shaking hand under the table.  
“Not much, only that they were dangerous, and some people had been killed.”  
“What d’you mean? Who died?”  
“About a dozen patients, and a security guard who tried to take the gun away from them.” Steve hit the desk. Jenny tilted her head, and lowered herself to his level. “Did you know someone there?” She tried, her tone soft, but Harrington said nothing. Instead, he smoked his cigarette down to the filter. “It was just one ward that was hit. I think it was one of the psychiatric wards. Everyone else was okay.”  
Steve cleared his throat, “I think - I think I need to make some calls.”  
“Oh God, you do know someone there, don’t you? I’m so sorry, I thought you would’ve known, the radio hasn’t stopped talking about it. I’m sorry-”  
“Just… go.” He said, shakily, and Jenny obeyed, but not before squeezing his shoulder, and doing her awkward, shuffling curtsy.

Staring at the door, Steve counted to ten and pulled Billy’s hoodie over his head. He screamed silently, pulling his legs into the massive garment, before hitting himself repeatedly. Even with his eyes tightly closed, the world seemed to be spinning around him. Steve swallowed bile, waiting for the outburst to ease, before poking his face back out to breathe.   
People died. Steve knew neither he or Billy had killed any of the patients in that quarantine, but they’d all died because the two of them were there. Whoever those bastards were behind the experiments, must’ve killed them to clear any evidence. And the security guard? Steve bit his hand hard enough to break the skin as realisation hit. The bald guy from the quarantine corridor. The one whose head Billy had practically cracked open. Steve knew the man wasn’t breathing, but he was so wrapped up with Hargrove, he hardly cared.   
Retching, Steve stumbled around his office, trying to find his mobile. Billy had killed someone. He’d killed a man and shot a cop. And now, innocent people had died, all because Steve was too much of a coward to stop Billy from going on that mad mission to find Mrs Brown, who, he assumed, must also be dead.   
He swore loudly and kicked the cabinet. He’d never thought to get Billy’s number. Somebody had to tell him, but Hargrove was so unstable, that the prospect of saying ‘You’re a murderer’, buckled his knees, and dropped him to the floor. Steve needed council, and fast, and even though he knew he’d be putting his friends life in danger, his fingers punched the digits into his phone.  
Hood back over his head again, Steve rocked to himself by the door, waiting for Dustin to pick up. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey  
> Thank you for all of your patience. It's been a really challenging month personally, and my other writing projects have had to take priority for a while, but with some encouragement from you guys, I've finally finished this chapter.  
> I am starting to work in some major plot lines now, and I am hoping with all the independent writing practice of late, I can increase the pace and mystery, as big events start to unfold.  
> The aim is to reduce the word count, cut out unnecessary detail, and remember I am telling a story, not narrating each individual event as they pass. It's been confusing - I am juggling this plot line with another, more complex one, for my original work, but I think, if I just take my time, I can still do the two. Most of the planning for the original work is working and reworking tonnes of interweaving plot lines with a writing partner, rather than actual writing, so I'm hoping that this fic can still serve it's function: learn how to write, get good, practice the concepts.  
> I thought for a while, that I was letting these two boys go, and that kinda broke me a bit, but if I compartmentalise well enough, I may not need to. Because without these guys, I wouldn't have had the confidence to consider my other work, and wouldn't have tapped into some major personal revelations. Plus, there are me's that would be unimpressed if they didn't have the space to express, which this fic provides.
> 
> I'm aware there isn't much relationship goodness in this chapter, and at least 4 OC's playing major roles, but *shrug*, they are important for plot, and plot is important! Thank you to all those who reached out to us recently, it's greatly appreciated, and I love you all
> 
> Kit


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